Alex Rider and the Pureblood League
by Jim Spriggs
Summary: or Harry Potter: Break Point. Alex Rider discovers he has developed magical talent, while the wizarding world struggles to face a new threat posed by supporters of Voldemort's regime.
1. June 2003

**Disclaimer: Neither Harry Potter nor Alex Rider are mine.**

June 2003

Alex Rider had thought the holiday to London was a terrible idea when Edward and Liz Pleasure had first suggested it. He had pointed out the existence of MI5, which had been contradicted with the presence of Tom. When he argued that he hadn't contacted Tom since first moving to America, Sabina had said that it was about time he did. The unspoken argument that he had enemies in Britain had been met with the unspoken rebuttal that he had enemies on most continents, with the possible exception of Antarctica. So, they had rented a large house, and two days after their arrival, Sabina had dragged Alex to a park, where they hovered by a large tree while Sabina texted frantically and finally Tom Harris had turned up.

He said 'Hey, Alex.'

Alex wasn't entirely sure how to reply. He muttered, 'I'm sorry.'

'Well, you've no reason to be.' said Tom, sounding more frustrated than Alex had ever heard him before. 'It's not like you suddenly stopped replying to any of my messages, deleted your Facebook, stopped using your phone and moved to an entirely different continent without telling me. I had to find out from Ms. Bedfordshire!'

'Jack died!' Alex found himself almost shouting, 'Jack died, and it was all my fault, but it's not like you'd care, you think all that MI5 stuff was great, boasting about getting shot and everything. You don't understand – it's dangerous, I'm dangerous, its's not just some game.'

Then they had a massive argument, made worse by the fact that Alex couldn't remember ever arguing with Tom Harris before, until eventually Tom said abruptly

'Never mind. It doesn't matter, just please never do that again.'

Alex wasn't sure he entirely agreed, or that Tom did himself, but Sabina was looking desperate. He guessed it must have been her idea to get in touch with Tom, and he owed her something for the nights she'd spent waking him from dreams, and her continuing defence of him in school despite his tendency to react to anyone coming within two metres of him as a violent threat requiring neutralisation, a fear which was particularly difficult to deal with in school corridors.

That was how the three of them ended up back at the Pleasure's rented house, watching a terrible romantic comedy (Sabina's choice), when four masked men burst into the room, armed with guns. For a moment, it seemed as if the world had frozen. The teenagers stared at the men, and the men stared at the teenagers. Then one of the men pointed at Alex, and said

'It's him. Get him.'

Alex reacted instantaneously. He had been sitting on the floor. Now, he seized hold of the arm of a chair to pull himself up, and used the momentum to propel himself across the room. He collided with one of the men, sending him straight into a wall, with a nasty crack. This left three. He seized the gun out of the man'ts unresisting arms and swung it with all his force into another's head. But their leader had reacted now. He had grabbed hold of Sabina and was holding a gun to her head. The remaining man did the same to Tom.

'Do you want to risk it?' asked the leader, as Alex weighed the gun in his hands. 'Anyway, you won't be able to save both of them. I doubt you'll save either.'

'If I go with you…' said Alex, frantically weighing up other options in his head, and coming up with nothing, 'Promise you'll let them go?'

'No, Alex!' said Sabina. 'Don't be stupid!'

'Of course.' said the man. 'Just send the gun across the floor to us.'

Alex did so. Then the man said 'Alright.' He nodded to his partner, and Alex saw his finger tightening on the trigger. Alex lunged towards them, a sense of desperate panic rising within him. Then, impossibly, the man's gun – and that of his partner, just vanished. Alex didn't have time to think about that until later. He reached the man, and knocked him out with a vicious punch while he was still gazing in bewilderment at the hand that, until a moment before, had been holding a lethal weapon. Then he did the same to the other man.

There was a silence while Tom and Sabina helped him tie all four men up. Then Tom said,

'What the hell was that? Their guns just…vanished. Do you think they meant to turn themselves in?'

'Why would they do that?' asked Alex shortly. He felt just as at sea as Tom. They searched the men, to see if they had for some mysterious reason put their guns away, but found no evidence of them.

'We should phone the police.' said Sabina, who sounded slightly shaky, 'And my mum and dad.'

Alex had absolutely no desire to phone the police; there was always the danger they might search his records, particularly as the motive for the men's attack seemed to be connected to his past activities, and although Mrs. Jones had promised him they had been expunged, Alex could find no compelling reason to trust her. However, the alternatives to this were to

a) ask Liz and Edward what to do, which would lead to the police being called anyway.

b) keep the men in the house indefinitely, which would be both impractical and unpleasant.

c) let them free, leaving them able to attack again.

d) get MI5 involved, something which he was definitely unwilling to do.

This left calling the police as the only practical option. There was just one problem –

'What do we say?' Tom asked. 'I mean, if we say their guns just vanished, they're going to think we've gone mad.'

'Let's wait until they wake up.' Alex decided. 'They're securely tied, and we can ask them why they came here.' Inwardly, he was running over the possible enemies he knew he had who remained at large. The list was rather long.

They secured the door, and Alex fetched several large knives from the kitchen as a precaution, in case any other unwelcome visitors should turn up. The Pleasure parents were not expected back until at least 11pm, and it was agreed they'd phone them at 10 if the men still hadn't woken up.

After this, they sat and ate crisps in silence until Tom said

'Wow, Alex. You should try that technique in the rugby field.'

They were laughing, and it just seemed to almost be normal again – not even present normal, but almost normal like it had been before Alex had gone to America, when there was a knock at the door.

The mood tensed instantly. Alex silently gestured to the others to conceal themselves, then, grabbing hold of a knife, he went to the door. When he opened it, there was a young man standing there, who looked to be in his early twenties. He was wearing a suit jacket, which contrasted bizarrely with his jeans, polka-dot shirt and trainers. He grinned when he saw Alex, his expression faltering slightly when Alex did not return the gesture. He said

'Good morning. My name's Neville Longbottom, and I'm a Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I've come about some very unexpected underage magic which emanated from your house about an hour ago. Can I come in?'

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Harry Potter, one of the Wizarding World's leading aurors at the age of only 22, was sitting in a top-secret Ministry meeting. He, Kingsley Shacklebolt (the Minister for Magic), Gawain Robards (Head Auror), and Joan Ogden (Department of Magical Catastrophes) had been staring at the same sheets of paper for a considerable length of time. Occasionally, they all looked up and eyed the others, to see if they had thought of something to say. Then they all resumed their contemplation of the paper.<p>

Finally, Kingsley said 'Well.'

They all looked at him hopefully.

'I shall liaise with the Muggle Prime Minister. This threat may concern him, and he may bring fresh eyes to the picture.'

'Is that really necessary, Minister?' asked Ogden. 'After all, there is no definite threat, and we don't want to cause an unnecessary panic. Besides, he's a Muggle – what possible help would he be?'

Robards gave a grunt which might have indicated agreement, or dissent. It was hard to tell, and Robards never clarified. He did this whenever anyone raised a point in debate. It was one of his many irritating habits.

Harry struggled to control his annoyance. 'There's evidence that Dark Arts materials are somehow being smuggled into the country from Bulgaria. We know there are still many Death Eaters lying low – just look at Lucius Malfoy! Besides, we have to give the Prime Minister information, we owe it to him after the war!'

'We don't have to.' Ogden replied sniffily. 'I might remind you that your predecessors' – she nodded to Kingsley – 'met with the Muggle leader rarely, if at all. These new fortnightly meetings are an entirely unnecessary threat to Wizarding secrecy and independence, necessitating the bringing up of minor points of policy which cannot –'

'It's not minor if they're planning to kill Muggles!' Harry interrupted, 'It's pretty major, especially for the _Muggle _Prime Minister.'

'Harry!' said Kingsley quellingly,'and my meetings with the Minister are not the topic of this discussion, Madame Ogden.'

Harry seethed silently. The endless meetings were the worst part of his rapid rise within the Auror department, especially when they so often involved civil discussion with those who had colluded with Voldemort during his reign, but had been pardoned due to the necessity of not imprisoning the entire Ministry of Magic. It meant endless checks on attempts to track down, or to charge escaped and suspected Death Eaters, and while the rational part of his brain recognised the necessity of this to avoid any miscarriages of justice, it was hard to be so calm when murderers such as Rookwood had their trial endlessly delayed.

The four of them resumed their silent contemplation of the table.

Madame Ogden finally said, 'Can we not compromise? As I recall, one of the leaders of the Muggle Secret Service was connected to the Wizarding World through marriage; we could tell him, as he will inevitably find out once the story is leaked to the Daily Prophet, as it is bound to do.'

No-one could really contradict this; in the past months, practically every secret meeting and file the Ministry possessed had been leaked to the press. No-one was quite sure how, although Harry had a strong suspicion that Rita Skeeter might be involved. In the past years, riding on the success of her biographies of Dumbledore and Snape, she had moved away from ordinary gossip and towards political gossip. However, despite increased knowledge of her Animagus disguise, she was proving very difficult to catch in the act.

Ogden continued, 'That way, fewer Muggles need know, and as he is not the Prime Minister, he will not be able to commit any rash acts.'

She was possibly refering to the Prime Minister's threats to send in the Muggle Army with machine guns if the Wizarding World didn't get its act together, although as this had followed the death of more than twenty people in a resurgent Death Eater attack shortly after the war's end, Harry had some sympathy for his point of view. Most of the wizarding world had not understood the threat originally, and when it had been explained they had been astounded at the lack of respect it suggested. Besides, he felt there was an obvious flaw in Ogden's theory.

'What if he tells the Prime Minister anyway?'

'Or simply marshalls his own forces in attack, without bothering with authorities?' asked Robards, making a rare excursion into the world of speech. Kingsley gave him a slightly unnerved look.

'Useless, I'm afraid.' he said. 'Alan Blunt retired from the Muggle Intelligence Services last year, and his replacement has no knowledge of magic at all.'

'We could tell both of them?' Harry suggested, with a slight sense of glee at the expression of horror which crossed Ogden's face when she heard this statement.

'A good idea, Harry' said Kingsley, grinning at him. Ogden let out a spluttering sound of horror. 'Shall we put it to the vote?'

Ogden voted against, of course. Robards also looked displeased, but apparently did not feel strongly enough to risk voicing an opinion, and instead abstained.

'Right.' said Kingsley,'I'll arrange to contact them both at some point tomorrow. Meanwhile, Harry, you continue investigating to see if we can find any more leads. Who will he be working with, Gawain?'

Robards looked thoughtful. You could see the cogs working as he considered whether it was better to appear incompetent, and say Harry could choose who he liked, or risk demonstrating any sort of bias through his choice of Auror. Eventually he said

'I think Harry should work alone,' neatly avoiding both issues.

The meeting completed, Harry apparated to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, where he might be able to track down Ron. It had shut for the day, and when he went in only George and Angelina were there. Angelina was examining a couple of Daydream Charms with unnecessary interest, while George was sitting bolt upright at the counter. They both looked slightly ruffled.

'You could have knocked!' George complained, and seemed about to say more when there was a loud explosion from the street, followed by screams. They rushed to the window, only to see a mass of people running towards the Leaky Cauldron. Harry made for the door, followed closely by George and Angelina. They fought their way through the crowd running in the opposite direction, until finally they reached the cause of the disturbance. Half of Gringotts Bank seemed to have collapsed, flames licking around the crumbled pillars, while a group of masked wizards stood around it, blocking the escape routes. They seemed to be letting some people out, but holding others back. The three of them ran towards them, drawing their wands.

* * *

><p>Mrs. Jones sat at her desk, highlighting random phrases in a stack of papers with an orange highlighter. In front of her, Ben Daniels was sitting, trying vainly to hide his increasing boredom and impatience. This tactic of delaying all conversations was one she'd learned from Alan Blunt, and enjoyed putting into practice. It was particularly entertaining watching all the different tactics people used. The agent she'd seen before Ben had read half of <em>The Times <em>(sports section, opinions and lifestyle) while waiting.

She was considering a meeting which the Prime Minister had asked her to attend the following day. This seemed very short notice – as an intelligence chief, she was accustomed to being the one calling last minute meetings (due to hiterto unknown threats), and felt slightly affronted that this time it was the other way round. The Prime Minister had refused to tell her the reason for the meeting, and had seemed quite irritated about it himself, although that might easily be due to the fact she despised him, and was fairly sure the feeling was mutual.

She sighed, and dismissed the matter from her mind.

'So, Agent Daniels. There is someone in London I'd like you to investigate…'


	2. The Pureblood League

**Disclaimer: Neither Harry Potter nor Alex Rider are mine.**

**Thanks so much for the reviews! and I will try to resolve plot discrepancies.**

The Pureblood League

For a moment Alex was caught off guard, wondering whether the man was harmless or feigning lunacy to catch him unawares. Then he hastily shut the door. The man knocked again as Alex went back to the sitting room. Sabina peered out from behind a bookcase.

'Is it all right to come out yet?' she hissed.

'Not yet.'

There was a groan from one of the kitchen cabinets. Alex guessed it contained Tom. The knocking continued, and finally the man yelled:

'If you don't let me in, I'll have to unlock your door. This is very important.'

Alex said nothing, and gripped his knife more tightly.

'In ten seconds, I'm going to come in.' said the man, and he did. Alex heard him say something which sounded like _alummura_. He must have been picking the lock, because the (slightly damaged) door seemed to open without any kind of force. The moment the man stepped inside, Alex lunged at him with the knife.

'Merlin's beard!' he shouted, waving a funny kind of stick he was carrying in his hand. A sort of blue shield seemed to appear in the air in front of the man, and Alex collided with it. He backed off instantly, and moved backwards until he'd placed the sofa between them. Eying the stick, he tried to work out what kind of weapon it might be. Possibly the shield was its only trick, but he'd learnt never to assume the best.

'I'm sorry to scare you.' said the man, and he looked genuinely apologetic, if slightly alarmed, 'But this is very important. It may come as a shock, but one of you is a wizard.'

'One of us?' Alex asked, but he'd already guessed the game was up.

'The three of you.' the man said helpfully. 'I'm assuming _they_' – he gestured to the unconscious men – 'are not.'

Sabina and Tom emerged from their respective hiding places, Tom sporting a duster and Sabina a phone and a determined look.

'If you don't leave immediately, I shall phone the police.' she told the man.

Then the man pointed his stick at the sofa and it turned into a pig. Sabina and Tom both screamed. Alex's brain seemed to shut down. It was impossible that what he'd seen was true. He shut his eyes tightly, then opened them again. The pig was still there. It had moved towards the man, who scratched it on the back.

'You don't need to be scared.' he said hastily. 'That was just to show you – magic exists. I'm not mad, and one of you is a wizard.'

'That was one hell of a trick!' said Tom admiringly. Alex could tell that by doing something that insane, the man had effectively removed any doubts he might have had. 'How did you do it?'

'I'm a wizard.' said the man.

'Don't be ridiculous.' Alex intervened, 'I don't know who sent you, or what you want from me, but you're going to leave now.' Inwardly, he was trying to think. The shield had vanished after the man had pointed his stick at the table. Did that mean he'd used it up, and Alex would now be able to reach him? However, whatever he'd done to the sofa (and Alex refused to think about it too deeply), it indicated the stick might also serve as a weapon, not just defense. He'd have to take the man out in one attempt.

'No, hang on Alex…' Tom complained.

'Stop it, Tom!' Alex yelled. 'He's trying to put us off our guard – he might be from Scorpia.' _Or the Triads, or a deranged friend of Desmond Cain, or another scandal-obsessed journalist-_

'I think I'd struggle to achieve that with you.' the man said cheerfully. His eyes were flicking from one teenager to the next, not giving Alex enough time to launch a surprise attack. 'What would you consider evidence enough that magic exists?'

'It doesn't –' Alex began, but Sabina interrupted. She grabbed a book – _'The Book of Marmalade: Its Antecedents, Its History and Its Role in the World Today'_, saying

'Can you turn this into a kitten?'

'Put it down!' Alex hissed desperately, 'Don't just hold it in front of you so he can aim before he attacks!'

Sabina put the book on the table. She and Tom were both watching the man eagerly. He paused for a second, then, with a flash of light, the book turned into a small marmalade tabby. There was an astonished silence. Then Sabina turned to Alex, and said

'I think he's telling the truth'

'Are you mad?' Alex was struggling not to panic. Even if the man was telling the truth, that did not (as Sabina and Tom seemed to feel) mean he wasn't trying to harm them, and made him a lot more difficult to fight. Alex had experience fighting against men armed with many different kinds of weapons, but magic was not one of them. And it would be ten times more difficult to fight against him if Sabina and Tom weren't at least on their guard.

The man was watchinng him with an oddly sympathetic look. Suddenly, he put down his stick. He said

'Listen, I'm going to put my wand down. I'll sit here' – he moved so he was no longer blocking the door – 'and you can hold on to your knife. I just want to talk. Nothing can go wrong.'

This in no way ensured that nothing could go wrong. Although the man looked chubby, Alex had no way of knowing how fast he might move, or what other magic tricks he mght have. However, it might also lull the man into a false sense of security if he pretended to agree, so he nodded.

'Right. As I said, I'm Neville Longbottom –' he gave a slightly awkward wave '- and I'm a wizard.'

Alex resisted the temptation to reply, 'Well, I'm Alex Rider and I'm an alcoholic.'

Longbottom continued explaining, explaining all about the school that existed for witches and wizards and how you knew you were one and the dangers of uncontrolled magic and how it was actually illegal you use it outside school until you were seventeen (unless your life was in danger). He was so comprehensive that Alex found himself convinced almost despite himself. Then Longbottom asked

'So, do any of you know which of you performed the spell?'

The idea that one of them might actuallly be magic seemed bizarre to Alex.

Tom said 'How could we? You said that magical children were discovered before the age of eleven?'

'Yes, well, there are some rare exceptions. Magic can develop later, often forced to by stressful circumstances.' Neville glanced at the men on the floor. 'I'm guessing they might qualify.'

'It was Alex.' Sabina announced abruptly. 'I'm certain. We had both been captured – he was the one fighting. I don't think it could be either of us.'

'We'll test it. Umm – I'm guessing that would be you?' he looked at Alex.

'How did you guess?' Tom muttered, sounding like he was trying not to laugh.

The test involved waving Neville's wand around. Sparks came out of the end, and nearly set fire to the curtains. Alex thought he should feel happy, or scared, or unnerved, or something. Instead, he just felt overloaded. Tom and Sabina both seemed far more excited than he was, giving him wide-eyed, gleeful looks and bombarding Neville with questions.

'You'll have to be taught.' Neville said to him. 'I'm not sure how, because you probably don't want to have lessons with a bunch of eleven-year-olds – although you could be in a dormitory with others your age…'

'Wait –what?' Sabina was taken aback, 'Alex can't go to boarding school, he lives with us, and anyway, we live in America.'

At this point, Edward and Liz Pleasure provided a distraction, when they walked through the door and Liz tripped over the pig. She nearly went sprawling on the floor, but Alex was able to leap forward and catch her. Neville hastily got up and transfigured the pig back into a sofa. Then they had to prove to Edward and Liz that he wasn't just some local maniac. After that, there was the problem of the four men on the floor to deal with. Eventually, Neville created two weapons to replace those lost, they called the police and told them a stirring tale of bravery and heroism on the part of the teenagers in taking down the four men, and hoped the men would be too confused to contradict this story in any meaningful way. It wasn't the best solution, but the Pleasures had had a long and boozy evening, while Alex, Tom and Sabina were exhausted and Neville appeared to have only a hazy notion of how the British justice system worked. At last, when this was done they settled down to discuss what should happen to Alex.

Alex wasn't sure. Part of him really wanted to go to boarding school, to get away from the kind and loving family who, through their very nature, reminded him painfully of Jack. Another part of him knew he could never explain this to them without causing hurt. Besides, he had no way of knowing boarding school would be better. Neville was emphasising the family nature of the place, but the last thing Alex wanted was a family. It was painful enough having lost one, and the evening's events had shown it would be quite possible for him to lose another.

Finally, Liz and Edward turned to him, and Edward asked jim

'Well, Alex, what would you like to do?'

Alex tried to think of a way of saying he wanted to go without hurting them.

'I'd like to learn how to use magic. It might be useful, as a defence.'

'That sounds like a plan then.' Edward said, heartily. He sounded almost relieved. Alex was surprised to discover that neither Liz or Edward seemed too upset. He supposed the stress of the past few months must have affected them as well.

'You'll still come back for all the holidays.' Liz said hastily. 'And we'll want you to ring and write, and keep in touch. Now,' – she turned to Neville and Tom – 'do you two want to stay the night?'

'Or what's left of it.' Edward muttered, and when Alex looked at the clock he could see that it was three in the morning.

'If it's no trouble.' siad Neville, and Tom nodded.

Liz offered them both sofas, but Neville soon transfigured them into two comfortable double-poster beds. Alex felt slightly jealous looking at them, and they filled up practically the enitre room. Everyone went to bed, but Alex lay awake, unable to get to sleep. It was painful trying to think of how Jack might react to him being a wizard.

He could almost hear her initial disbelief, her saying 'Wow, Alex! You, a wizard!' At last, he drifted off into an uneasy, restless sleep.

* * *

><p>Harry shot a stunning spell towards one of the masked figures as soon as he got within range, but it missed and several of the figures turned towards him.<p>

'_Crucio_' shouted a man, and Harry ducked to avoid the jet of red light. He heard Angelina shout '_Wingardium Leviosa_', and a pile of cauldrons stainding outside the Apothecary flew towards the group, which scattered as the cauldrons collided with someone's head.

'Keep them divided!' he shouted, then '_Glisseo_'.

The cobbles in front of them became an icerink, with masked figures skidding all over it like some kind of bizarre ice-skating routine. Meanwhile, from behind the (now broken) circle the mysterious group had formed, two goblins struggled out of the wreckage of Gringotts. Harry recognised one of them to be Griphook, who took advantage of the loss of concentration to knock three of the people out in quick succession with a nasty-looking piece of timber.

Casting a quick charm on his shoes to stop them slipping, he ran forward and cast Impedimenta at several of the figures who sought to stand. He'd managed to stupefy two of them when the icy floor melted. He turned to see a rolling wall of flame moving towards him, and looked frantically for George and Angelina. Both ran towards him, and together they managed to freeze the flames and vanquish them. When the steam and smoke had cleared, the incapacitated figures had vanished, and there were just three left.

'One each!' he shouted to George and Angelina, and ran forwards to the one who he suspected of starting the fire. It was difficult to tell what they might be like behind the mask and dark robes, but they looked tall, and might have brown hair. It wasn't a lot to go by for identification. Harry hoped he'd be able to capture them.

He shouted '_Expelliarmus_!', which his opponent blocked, and followed it up with an attempted Stunning Curse.

'_Bombarda!_', his opponent had a deep, male voice, and Harry quickly conjured a shield to protect himself from the debris which suddenly flew towards him. He flicked his wand and a coil of rope flew towards the man, who almost contemptuously set fire to it. Harry used a levitation charm to lift the cobbles around them, knocking the man backwards onto the floor. He glanced to either side to see how Angelina and George were doing. Angelina was still battling her opponent, but George, Griphook and the other goblin had wrestled the other to the ground. He felt a sudden pain in his side – while he'd been distracted, the man had managed to hit him with a cutting charm. Turning back, he just managed to intercept another aimed at his neck, and was just about to follow it up with an expelliarmus when the man vanished. When he looked, he realised the other two had as well, and Ron and Hermione were running towards him, wands in hands and followed by several Aurors.

He gestured to Ron and Hermione, and they headed with him towards Griphook, who on closer inspection looked rather the worse for wear. His face was covered in what looked like burn marks, and one of his legs didn't seem to be working properly.

'What happened?' he asked.

Griphook was furious. 'What happened? Those _bikkju-sunr _attacked, and blew our counting-house up – ('That's where the goblins weigh the gold and precious metals to be traded with other banks.' Hermione hissed to Harry and Ron. 'We know' Ron muttered back, although Harry hadn't) – and they were standing outside, stopping us from getting out. And it's not as if your wizard Aurors did anything, as soon as they realised that wizards weren't in danger they took their own time coming. It's always the same with wizards, you can't trust them as far as you can throw them –'

'Harry came to help.' Ron interrupted, 'and so did my brother and Angelina.' Harry trod heavily on his toe to try and shut him up; he felt mentioning this fairly inadequate response would only annoy Griphook more.

Griphook cast them both a look of the utmost disdain. 'There are still some of us in there.' he said, gesturing towards the smouldering remains of Gringotts. 'I require medical attention.' He picked up the other goblin, and limped haughtily away.

'Honestly, Ron.' Hermione said. 'Did you really think that was a helpful thing to say?'

'Well, he didn't need to take it so personally.'

'Why shouldn't he? It's symptomatic of the prejudices and failure of the wizarding world to treat non-humans with anything near the respect they deserve, despite –'

'Hermione,' Harry said wearily, 'Now is not the time. We need to get some mediwizards, and find out what's going on.'

It was dark by the time they'd finished removing bodies from the wreckage of Gringotts. As many hands as possible were required, and Harry, Ron and Hermione (along with George and Angelina) were kept busy. Gawain Robards had turned up at some point during the operations, and now he said

'Right, that's enough for the day. Get a good night's sleep.'

A weary cheer went up from the assembled Aurors, but Harry wasn't happy. By tomorrow, clues which might be found at the crime scene could easily have vanished, and it would be far harder to operate when Diagon Alley was once more filled with its usual hustle and bustle the next day. He exchanged glances with Ron and Hermione, who were clearly thinking the same thing. As people headed homewards, they lingered behind.

'Right.' said Ron when they were finally alone. 'Do we think this has anything to do with your top-secret meeting about a new Dark Magic threat?'

Harry had told Ron and Hermione about it the minute Kingsley had sent him the confidential information. It helped to have two people he trusted absolutely to share his work with. Now he considered.

'The Dark Arts materials seemed to come from anti-Muggle groups in Bulgaria -'

'But they're usually also opposed to part-humans!' Hermione interrupted.

'And it doesn't really matter who it came from.' Ron pointed out. 'It's whoever's got it here that we need to worry about, and I can't think of many British pureblood supremacists who love goblins.'

'The attackers were wearing masks,' Harry said, 'and I didn't immediately recognise them.'

'Nor did George or Angelina.' Hermione sighed. 'Well, let's see if they've left were trying to make a point, you'd think they'd at least have a message saying what it was.'

'I think attacking a load of goblins is a pretty clear way of saying _we hate goblins_, don't you think?' Ron muttered.

They searched the rubble, and finally found a small box. Hermione opened it from a distance, but nothing dangerous came out. Instead, golden letters spiralled into the air,

spelling out:

_Courtesy of the Pureblood League_

* * *

><p>'His name is Augustus Drwg.'<p>

'Drwg?' Ben asked. He wasn't sure he wanted to do another mission for MI6. He preferred the friendliness of K-Unit, and although he hadn't seen Cub since their mission in Asia more than six months ago, he still felt faint guilt about their use of a minor. The SAS wouldn't have stood for that. Fourteen-year-olds were fine in training, but in combat they made you look silly. Apparently, MI5 disagreed.

'Yes.' said Mrs. Jones, adding 'It's Welsh, although not a very common surname.'

'And why do you want me to investigate him?'

Mrs. Jones sighed.

'This is unofficial, because I'm not so sure that I'm not just making a fool of myself. But this man has been photographed abroad many times, and often mysterious deaths have occurred in roughly the same area at roughly the same time as he is seen, which haven't really been explained by local law enforcement. It's possible they were bribed to let him off. Beyond that, there's no record of him ever travelling abroad. He doesn't seem to own a passport, or have been through border control, in his life.'

'Couldn't he just be a really unlucky bloke with a lot of lookalikes?' Ben asked. Once again, he pondered whether MI5 was really for him. It seemed to require a mind so suspicious that even he, who spent much of his life in a state of mild paranoia, didn't qualify. The idea of spending months on stake-out duty outside the house of a man who might resemble a lot of other men, who'd been in places where people had died, did not appeal.

'We'll see.' Mrs Jones said. 'At present, we require more information.'

She pushed a photograph over to Ben, showing a tall, pale man with brown hair and blue eyes. He suppressed a sigh, thought longily of his unit (presently on leave) and listened to the details of his mission briefing.


	3. Diagon Alley

**Disclaimer: Neither Harry Potter nor Alex Rider belong to me.**

**Thanks for the reviews!**

Diagon Alley

Before they left for Diagon Alley to get Alex's school supplies, Neville insisted on changing some of the Pleasure's money for wizarding change, with huge golden coins which weighed several ounces and tiny coppers which you could barely see. Then he said 'It may be a bit of a walk.'

He led them to Charing Cross Road, and while Edward Pleasure was muttering under his breath that he'd never seen a magic shop in central London before, Alex noticed something different about the street.

Between Starbucks and Boots there was a pub he'd never seen before, and he was certain he couldn't have missed it. It was very old-looking, with mulllioned glass windows and a fading sign naming it 'The Leaky Cauldron'. He pointed it out to Tom and Sabina, but they couldn't seem to see it.

'Oh.' said Neville, noticing, 'Yes, you'll all have to hold hands to get in.' Then he opened the pub door and walkd in. Alex followed, ignoring the complaints that they were heading straight towards a brick wall. Inside, the pub was dark and dingy, with heavy oak furniture. It seemed to be lit by oil lamps, and men and women dressed in what seemed to be flowing dresses lined the walls, drinking. No-one seemed to have noticed their entry – in fact, all of the people there seemed to be muttering to each other in a tone of mixed excitement and fear. Neville seemed to have noticed the atmosphere as well; he was glancing at the pub's clientele with a concerned look on his face, but when he noticed Alex looking, he gave him a hasty grin.

'Right, so through this door and we'll get to Diagon Alley!'

The Pleasure parents were exchanging slightly uncertain looks – the pub's faded décor and the dodgy-looking people at the bar had clearly unnerved them, but Neville said 'No need to worry!' and hustled them all on before anyone had time to raise objections. And when they got to Diagon Alley, Alex could tell that they, Sabina and Tom thought it was worth it.

Diagon Alley was a narrow cobbled street, crowded with people, many of whom (as Sabina pointed out to Tom and Alex, giggling) were wearing pointy wizard's hats. Shops hung over the street from either side, reminding Alex of his history lessons about medieval London. They had names like Flourish and Blotts, and signs advertising cauldrons, eels eyes and broomsticks. There were street vendors as well – nearby, a man was selling newspapers, shouting

'Read All About It! Read All About It! The Gringotts Explosion: Goblin Conspiracy or Grotesque Attack?' You could hear the capital letters. Wait…

Alex ran through the words again in his head, but they raised more questions than answers. Did goblins exist? He couldn't remember Neville mentioning them, but then it wouldm't necessarily have come up. They'd mostly talked about what magic did and what Hogwarts was like. Maybe they were a gang? And Gringotts, he remembered, was a bank.

Neville had heard the newspaper vendor too. He went to talk to him, and came back holding a newspaper and wearing a shocked expression.

'Is anything wrong?' Liz asked.

'No, no…well, yes, but nothing you need to worry about.'

'I'm sure it's nothing.' Alex said, and that seemed to calm her down. She clearly felt that if Alex wasn't suspicious, there could be no possible cause for alarm. Meanwhile, Alex tried to glance at the newspaper headlines, but Neville had stuffed it in his bag and urged them into the first shop.

All through Madam Malkin's fitting him for robes, while Sabina and Tom forced him to try steadily more garish colours and Edward and Liz laughed at the hats, Alex tried to work out how he might find out more about the explosion. He couldn't ask Neville, who was trying very hard to hide his grim expression from the rest of the party, as the others would hear. The same went for Madam Malkin, who also seemed somewhat on edge. He listened out to see whether anyone else in the shop was talking about it, but there was only one boy with his parents. His name, Alex discovered, was Albedo Pangler, and by the time he'd heard that Albedo's life would be over if he didn't get to bring both an eagle owl and a cat to Hogwarts, and if he wasn't in Ravenclaw it would be an outrage (Albedo, apparently, was very clever), and his parents had ruined his life by not allowing him to go school shopping with Maximus Morpion, Alex decided that Gringotts was unlikely to come up.

This continued throughout the morning. Every shop they went into seemed to be populated entirely by proud parents and their tiny offspring, and if there was a certain tension in the air, conversations made sure to avoid it. By the time Neville had shown them double-ended newts in the pet shop ('How does that even work?' Sabina asked, then 'No, no, don't explain!'), biting books in the book shop (Alex noted the new threat, and decided never, ever to do Care of Magical Creatures), and Alex had got his own wand (the wand shop was a tip by the time he left, but Ollivander didn't seem to care), the excitement of the whole place had put the question out of his mind.

'What d'you think's round the corner, Alex?' Tom asked gleefully.

'I don't think anything would surprise me now! Maybe a flying carpet?'

'They're illegal in Britain, although you can still use them in the Middle East.'

'Oh, right.'

They turned the corner. Edward said:

'Oh my God!'

Staight ahead of them there was half of an imposing, white building, with pilllars. The rest of it seemed to be spread across the ground in rubble. The area was roped off, with a lot of business-like people rushing around. In a corner, there was a row of what looked like bodies, covered by sheets. Alex felt slightly sick.

'What the hell is this?' Liz demanded.

'Yes, well, there's been an attack.' Neville said unhappily, 'I hadn't realised it was as bad as this, or I wouldn't have taken you round here – are you all right? Do you need to sit down?'

Sabina had gone white; she was staring at the covered bodies with a horrified expression. Alex wondered what she was thinking of.

'Yes-' said Liz hastily, 'Sabina, sit down. You too, Alex.' There was a café nearby. A large closed sign hung over the door, but there were chairs outside. She pushed them both into seats, then led Neville out of earshot. Edward followed them. Tom hovered awkwardly, looking uncertain and upset. He patted Sabina on the back.

Sabina said 'I'm not imagining them, am I? There are dead bodies over there.'

'Yes.' Alex didn't really know what to say. Apparently that wasn't right, however.

'What do you mean, just yes?' Sabina flashed, 'There are dead people over there, and you don't seem to care! It's like on that plane all over again. They killed everyone and left them just like that.' She gulped like she was trying not to cry.

Saying 'Actually, there's a possibility they might be goblins not people.' didn't seem like a good response to that. Alex did care, he wasn't a monster, but he'd seen enough death. Bodies alone didn't really shock him anymore. Tom looked slightly confused (Alex had told him about Damian Cray, but not in great detail) but said 'I know, it's awful.', rubbing her shoulders. They stayed like that for a while, then Sabina suddenly sniffed and said 'I'm all right. And I know you do care, Alex, it's just…'

'I know.' said Alex, although he didn't. They got up and went back over to the adults. It looked like Neville had just about succeeded in calming them down. He'd gestured over a short, skinny looking man with messy black hair and glasses, and introduced him as Harry Potter.

Harry turned out to be working on who'd caused the explosion. He also seemed to be very popular, judging by the number of workers who came over to ask him questions, or passers-by who stopped and pointed at him.

He said 'It's definitely not a goblin conspiracy. Is that really what those idiots at the _Prophet_ have been saying? I knew it was Hermione's mistake to ever let Rita Skeeter go…anyway, we think it's probably the Pureblood League.'

'The who?' Neville asked, 'Are they a new group?'

'Yes. They left their name, and that must be new, no-one's ever heard of them. We didn't recognise any of them when we were fighting them last night, either. There must be some crossover, though. They left a piece of paper as well, saying _Number One Hundred and Forty-Three Next._ No-one knows what that means either, but Hermione's working on it.'

'I didn't know she worked for the Aurors?' Neville said. He sounded amused.

'Yes, well…she's the one I reckon'll solve it. Anyway, who're you showing round?'

When Neville expained, Harry grinned cheerfully at Alex. Alex noticed he had a lightning-bolt shaped scar right across his forehead.

'Lucky you. Hogwarts is pretty much the best place to study magic in the world.'

'Just a shame I'll be the only sixteen-year-old in a class of Year Sevens.'

'Don't you know anyone? Well of course not, if you're muggleborn.' Harry looked thoughtful. 'Why don't you all come to dinner with my fiancee's family this evening?'

He noticed their taken-aback looks and said 'No, really. There'll be tons of people, and her sister-in-law's sister is about your age, although she goes to a different school…'

'You should go.' said Neville, 'It's true, Weasley family dinners are always massive. Whenever you go to one, there's sure to be at least one person you've never met before in your life.'

'Well, if you're sure. That would be lovely.' said Liz abruptly, ignoring everyone elses startled looks, and stepping heavily on Edward's foot when he looked like he was about to say something.

When they were going back through the Leaky Cauldron without Neville, she muttered 'We can ask a few other people if it really is safe. And it'll be nice for Alex to meet some other wizarding people.' Alex was surprised to find he felt slightly nervous about this. He hadn't cared at all what people thought when he'd gone to Sabina's school in San Francisco. On the other hand, the chances of people thinking he was weird were probably far higher if he was the only sixteen-year-old in a class of under-twelves, even without his hatred of surprises and fear of attack.

As they walked through the bar he glanced from side to side, and a face caught his eye. He turned, staring. He'd know that face anywhere, with its complete lack of memorable features. It was Alan Blunt. As always, he was completely expressionless. Alex had no way of telling whether he'd been recognised or not, and before he had time to decide what to do (should he run across the room and punch Blunt in the face? Smash a glass over his head? Both were tempting), Tom had said 'Come _on_!' and dragged him back onto Charing Cross Road.


	4. Meetings and Dinners

**Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider or Harry Potter.**

**Thanks so much for the reviews! And thanks for explaining about the grammar, _Alakata_ – I didn't know that before so hopefully it's better in this chapter.**

Meetings and Dinners

Explaining the existence of magic to Mrs. Jones had taken surprisingly little time. Initially, she'd eyed the Prime Minister like he was crazy when he'd told her Kingsley was a wizard, with her hand reaching for the pocket where Kingsley had been informed she kept a gun. However, after he'd transformed the Prime Minister's stationery into a set of stainless steel cutlery, she'd been more conciliatory, although the Prime Minister had been annoyed.

Now she said thoughtfully, 'Well, it does explain why no-one got the sack during those mysterious terrorist attacks in the late 1990s. I wondered why he didn't change round the Secret Services: he gave every other excuse.'

Kingsley still felt guilty about the problems the wizarding world had caused the Prime Minister's predecessor. He said, 'Alan Blunt already knew about magic, and he headed your department at the time. That probably stopped the Prime Minister from trying anything there.'

Mrs. Jones looked thoughtful, but didn't say anything else. Kingsley found himself wondering what exactly her job entailed. Spies and secret services didn't really exist in the Ministry of Magic. It functioned more like a sieve, with any classified information soon being spread throughout the wizarding population, usually due to a front-page _Daily Prophet_ article. The idea of trying to pre-emptively collect information about enemies seemed bizarre. It would be more likely to hand them weapons. He pushed these thoughts out of his mind.

'Anyway, it's about this potential threat to Muggles. I'm afraid it's got a lot more actual.'

* * *

><p>Neville had been right – there were lots of people at the Weasley's dinner and they were all very friendly. Alex had been intoduced to at least twenty, ranging in age from a four-month-old baby named Juste to a crumpled-looking elderly man snoozing in a deckchair, who he was told was Perkins – from – work. There seemed to be a ridiculously large number of redheads among them. Mr. and Mrs. Pleasure were chatting to a tall, balding man who seemed to be very interested in exactly how they'd cook a meal.<p>

'So, you'd use a _whisk_ then?' he was saying, 'And what does that do?'

Tom and Sabina were busy talking to Gabrielle Delacour, who'd been introduced as 'About your age.' She was unreasonably pretty, with long silvery-blonde hair and large blue eyes, as well as a strong French accent. Tom hadn't stopped staring at her since she'd been introduced. Alex wondered if he should point out to Tom that he was drooling, but Sabina caught his eye and shook her head. She was looking slightly annoyed.

Alex looked around the garden where they were all standing. It was quite small, with several chickens pecking around guests' feet and a pigsty near the door of the Weasleys' house. The house was unlike any he'd ever seen before. It resembled a tottering pile of boxes, all different sizes, and it was leaning more than the Tower of Pisa. The curtains were all different colours as well, and it seemed to have at least six chimneys. He wanted to explore the house and possibly find out more about the wizarding world, but he thought that might be difficult. Unlike Desmond Cain's party in a Scottish castle (_but he didn't want to think about that_), it was practically impossible to avoid a conversation, as a Weasley host was sure to notice him. Even now, one of them – Alex thought his name was George – came over.

'You all right?'

'Yeah, fine…it's just a bit overwhelming.'

'I s'pose. I grew up with magic, so it's all normal to me. Listen, if you want to go somewhere a bit quieter, it's just Mum and Ginny in the kitchen. Mind you, I'd say they're just as overwhelming as the rest of us put together…Hey, Lee! Glad to see you could make it!.' He gestured towards a man who'd just appeared at the edge of the gathering. The way people kept doing that was really unnerving Alex. It made it impossible to keep count of how many there were, and where they were standing.

He looked thoughtfully after George. George was missing an ear, and the man he was now greeting seemed to have a nasty limp. They weren't the only ones with scars, either. Another Weasley – Bill? – had one right across his face. He'd noticed Liz and Edward looking at it as well. If you combined this with the destruction in Diagon Alley earlier that day, it looked as though the wizarding world wasn't nearly as peaceable as Neville had suggested in his talk the day before. He was surprised to find that he didn't really mind. The past few months, he'd been seeing danger round every corner. It would be nice if hs suspicions could actually be correct once in a while.

There was a sudden commotion, and a loud female voice shouted 'Everyone, sit down! Dinner's ready!' Platters of food were floating out of the doors of the house, wafting a delicious smell along with them. Two women appeared, both holding their wands out. They were redheads too. Someone tapped on his shoulder, and he swung round instantly to see who it was, shifting his body into a fighting stance. It was Tom, who looked taken aback.

'Uh, I just wanted to say you should eat with us.'

'_Us'_ turned out to be Tom, Sabina, Gabrielle and baby Juste, who was Gabrielle's nephew and of whom she was very proud. As they sat down to eat Alex could see Juste's mother glancing nervously in their direction. He got the impression she didn't entirely trust anyone else with the baby yet.

The food was delicious, crispy roast duck and new potatoes. Alex ate silently, listening to Sabina and Gabrielle compare wizarding and muggle makeup. Tom wasn't joining in the conversation either, but he seemed happy just to sit and watch. Alex eavesdropped on the talk on the other side of him, where Harry from Diagon Alley was sitting. He was deep in conversation with a woman with frizzy brown hair, yet another red-headed man, and a red-haired woman.

'So, did you find anything, Hermione?'

'There is a possibility…'

'Well, go on then! No need to wait for the cows to come home.'

'Charming, Ronald! I've got no proof, it's based on assumptions about their targets. But at the moment, number 143 in Wizarding Charts is a _muggle_ song. Let 'Em In, by Paul McCartney. Only thirty years behind the times…and –'

'You are a genius, aren't you! How on earth did you know that?'

'Well, actually Ginny put me on to it. But what's important is, he's putting on a concert in Liverpool soon. Don't you think, that might easily be their next target!'

Alex guessed this related to the attack on Gringotts Bank. He also thought that the clue might easily be a decoy, and wondered why this didn't seem to have occurred to any of the wizards. However, he had no intention of getting involved in any kind of Wizarding Secret Services, even if they did seem to be rather less secret than the magical kind.

'Alex!' Sabina suddenly interrupted his thoughts, 'You've been awfully quiet! I don't think you've said anything to Gabrielle beyond _Hello_! Mind you, Tom has only really managed _Ngghhh_.'

She dragged him into the conversation, and he had to let his thoughts subside.

Later,after the meal had ended and everyone was standing around chatting (or, in the case of a huge man with a massive black beard and yet another red-head, singing loudly), Liz beckoned him over.

'Alex, this is Minerva McGonagall. She'll be your headmistress at Hogwarts.'

Minerva McGonagall was a tall, severe-looking women with her hair up in a steel-grey bun. She nodded at Alex.

'Nice to meet you. We've just been talking about your unusual circumstances, and while you'll have to learn with younger children, at least at first, we'll make sure you have plenty of opportunities to meet people closer to your own age.'

'I was wondering when you had parent's evenings,' Liz said, 'And whether we'll be able to visit?'

'You'll be in America!'

'Yes, but I've been told about these things called Floo Networks…'

McGonagall interrupted, saying 'As a matter of fact, we are introducing something like that to Hogwarts this year. We hadn't in the past, but the Muggle idea does seem to have something in it. There's going to be Quidditch matches – as a matter of fact we're hoping to get some of the League's teams to attend, as well as opportunities to find out what they're learning, and we're particularly aiming the event at Muggle parents. So they can see what their children are capable of.'

'Oh, that sounds splendid!' Liz beamed. Then they were saying goodbyes, and Tom was telling Gabrielle he'd add her on Facebook, and Gabrielle was saying 'But what is Facebook?'

When they reached the Pleasures' rented apartment, they all sat silently on the sofas for a while. Alex suspected that, like him, they all felt a bit overwhelmed. Tom's phone rang, and he checked it. 'Wow! Ten missed calls…Hi, Jerry. Ohh! I forgot you were coming. Well, it's only…two in the morning. I see what you mean. You'll never believe where I've been! Bye!'

'I'd forgotten you haven't been home the whole weekend,' Liz fussed. 'Your parents must have been so worried.'

'Not really, that was my brother. But I'd better go. He says the only reason he came over from Italy was to see me.'

Tom grabbed his bag, then shocked Alex by giving him a hug. Alex tensed up instantly, but Tom didn't comment on it, just said 'I'll probably see you tomorrow…today anyway.' Then he waved at Sabina and her parents and left.

* * *

><p>Mrs. Jones put down her knife and fork and glanced up at the man sitting opposite her. She always made it a policy to start with pointless chit-chat in a meal, before moving on to the more important topics during the pudding. This ensured that the waiter had lost interest in eavesdropping. Unfortunately, she had nothing much to say to Alan Blunt, so the first two courses had taken place in total silence.<p>

Finally, he said, 'I believe you said we had no reason to meet again.' He eyed her with polite disinterest.

'Situations change.' It was difficult to know exactly how to bring it up, so she went for the direct route. 'What do you know about magic?'

Alan wasn't often surprised, but this clearly wasn't what he'd been expecting. He even lifted his eyebrows slightly, a sure sign of astonishment. 'Magic? Stage tricks, you mean?'

'Don't try and obfuscate. Magic, like an entire wizarding world living beside our own, which you apparently know about but did not inform me of when you were sacked.'

'Retired.'

'Forcibly retired.'

Alan looked expressionless. 'Yes, I know about magic. But I wasn't officially informed of it. My wife's a witch - that's why I know. I didn't tell you because there was no real reason. Unless they want you to get involved, you won't find anything about them, or if you do, you'll forget it.'

This explained why the MI6 file on Alan's wife was almost completely blank, lacking school details, family background and maiden name. It also raised a question about Dwrg, the man she'd sent Agent Daniels to investigate.

'Forget?'

'With a memory charm. They can make you forget whatever you want.' Alan leant forward, looking mildly interested, 'Were you responsible for sending Rider to Diagon Alley, then?'

'What? You saw him? He's supposed to be in America! No! I promised we'd never use him again, and I keep my promises. Well, that one anyway.'

'I don't know how he'd be magical,' Alan muttered thoughtfully, 'When they find out before they're eleven. And he'd have been at that school. But if he was a wizard – imagine how useful he could have been!'

'He already was useful! Far too useful, in fact! You know we were wrong to use him. He was only a child, and still is.'

'Fifteen. If he has somehow become a wizard, you could find out quite a lot through him. No-one would suspect –'

'I don't need Alex Rider, because I can get information from you! Now, I was told about magic because the Minister for Magic says there's a potential threat to us. What do you know about it?'

Later, after a slightly awkward goodbye, Mrs. Jones sat in her flat and considered the situation. Alan had informed her that wizards knew ways to kill people which could not possibly be guarded against, and could repel most non-magical weapons short of nukes. Even allowing for his usual extreme pessimism, a trait she shared, the situation did not look good, especially as her knowledge of the wizarding world was still incredibly patchy. She got up, sighing, and went to make a cup of tea. Enlisting Alex Rider probably would be helpful. Even if he was a 'muggleborn', he'd still be more involved in the world than Alan was. But it would be wrong, and besides, she didn't even know if he was a wizard. It might just as easily be one of the Pleasures. Resolutely, she put the idea out of her mind, and moved on to worrying about whether she should tell Ben Daniels that the person he was watching might be a wizard.

* * *

><p>Ben Daniels sat in a flat opposite Augustus Dwrg's house. He'd put concealed cameras facing every entrance and had a heat sensor so he could sense if anyone was inside. At present, it was showing one person moving around the house, who showed no sign of leaving. He opened a newspaper, and settled down to attempt the crossword.<p> 


	5. Breakthroughs

**Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider or Harry Potter.**

**Thanks for the review, _Major Simi_!**

Breakthroughs

Following his meeting with the Muggle government, Kingsley had scheduled a meeting with the Bulgarian Minister for Magic for the next day. Originally, he had intended to bring Harry, Robards and Ogden, but Harry cried off, saying he had a clue to follow up. To be honest, this was a relief – however much you might agree with him, Harry was a nightmare in any political meeting. He was completely unwilling to compromise and incapable of hiding his dislike of old, prejudiced wizarding families. As they made up most of the Ministry of Magic, Kingsley always ended up spending several hours after any meeting with Harry unruffling the feathers of all the important people Harry disagreed with. Therefore, as he, Ogden and Robards Flooed to the Bulgarian Minister of Magic's office in Sofia, he looked forward to a calm and fruitful discussion without raised voices.

Mr. Obalonsk's office was small and dark: the curtains were drawn over the windows, blocking any hint of sunlight. Instead, it was lit by a couple of candles fixed in elaborate wall-holders.

'_Do_ come in,' he said unctuosly as they tumbled out of the fireplace, waving them towards three tall, straight-backed chairs, while he settled in a large, ornate throne which seemed to be made of burnished gold.

Kingsley always found it hard to know what to make of Mr. Obalonsk.

After the usual small talk, they got down to business.

'So, have you gained any more information about the possible smuggling links?'

'Or have you discovered that, as I suspected, the whole thing is merely a mare's nest?' Madam Ogden asked sniffily.

'Uhm,' said Robards.

'Vell, not exactly. Vould you like somezing to drink?' Obalonsk produced a dusty bottle of dark red liquid, labelled _Soif de Sanguinaire_. He poured some into a crystal wineglass and took a sip.

'Not in the least!' Ogden looked scandalised.

'Just as vell. It might not be to your tastes…'

'Have you met the Prime Minister of Transylvania recently or something?' Kingsley asked pointedly.

Obalonsk looked pleased. 'Vell, as you mention it, ve did enjoy a nice meal together the other day. But of course,' he suddenly leant forward, looking serious, 'ze important matter is this _very concerning _rise in Dark Arts smuggling. I don't think pleasantries are really very important in this case, are they?' He gave Kingsley a reproving look, as though it was entirely his fault the conversation had derailed. Kingsley successfully held back a retort, and asked, 'So, what have you found?'

'Ve can be confident of some movement of resources. Ve have proof that several blood-supremacist gangs have a lot more money zese days, but ve are not sure how.'

'I fail to see how that proves anything.' Ogden said haughtily. 'Perhaps they have simply marketed themselves well and been rewarded with an increase in donations. Don't you agree, Robards?'

Robards looked alarmed and murmurred something non-committal.

'Vell, I am not surprised you would say zat. But I do not care what you zink, so I will not try to persuade you.' Obalonsk said cheerfully. 'Ve do have one lead, though. Radomir Losh, who vas seen by your Aurors in Diagon Alley?'

'Yes?' Losh was a well-known criminal, wanted by the authorities in most of Europe. He'd never been caught committing a crime in Bulgaria, however, and as Obalonsk disdained extradition treaties he remained free to roam. He'd been spotted by Aurors enjoying a Firewhiskey at the Leaky Cauldron, a few days before the Gringotts explosion.

'Vell, he vas seen at the Kr'v i Kosti, talking with Zlatan Nedostovernov.' Obalonsk sat back, apparently feeling this statement clarified everything.

'And…is Nedostovernov dangerous?'

Obalonsk gave him a disbelieving look. 'For your team, lethal! Last time ve beat you 460-30. Zis time, it vill be even better.'

'Not now Wood's back in action.' Kingsley replied automatically. 'That incident with a Horklump was unlucky – now he's back you'll be lucky to score one goal.' He hadn't been keeping up with Quidditch, but now he thought about it, he could remember Nedostovernov. He was a Chaser, and a very good one. In that last, painful encounter he had scored 190 points for Bulgaria. He tried to remember when Bulgaria next played any of Britain's teams.

'Zere is a match against Vales next week.' said Obalonsk helpfully. 'It vill be good practice for ven we play England next spring and beat you for the thirteenth time in a row. Now, zat is all the information I have to give you, so unless you vant to stay for tea…' He gestured towards the fireplace, then stood up and yanked back the curtains, bathing the entire room in sunlight.

'Don't you want to know any of our imformation? See if we can spot any patterns?'

'Zere is no need. I read the _Daily Prophet _zis morning.'

The _Prophet's _skill at discovering top-secret information had really hurt the Ministry's bargaining position with other countries.

* * *

><p>Ben Daniels shifted restlessly. In the time he'd been watching Dwrg, the heat sensors seemed to be malfunctioning wildly. Dwrg would vanish for long periods, then appear again. Occasionally, they seemed to be detecting several people. He'd suspect secret exits, but the places where people disappeared and reappeared seemed entirely random. He'd even replaced them once, with no impact whatsoever.<p>

He sighed and checked his phone. He had three texts, one from each member of his old SAS unit. Wolf's was an angry demand as to why he'd got landed with a mission when they were home on leave, Eagle's was a sad face and Snake's said that he hoped to meet before they returned to Iraq. At the present rate, Ben saw very little chance of that.

There were no obvious defences on the house. If he scoped it out for concealed weapons, he could break in and see if there was any evidence of Dwrg's wrongdoing. Considering how limited Jones' grounds for investigation were, he doubted there'd be any danger at all.

* * *

><p>The next week was warm and sunny, and Alex spent most of it sitting in parks with Sabina and Tom. They didn't discuss the events of the weekend, or anything really. The police had told the Pleasures that the intruders had been Skoda, the drug dealer Alex had attacked what seemed like half a lifetime ago, and his cronies. This, if true, was a relief, and Alex persuaded himself to believe it.<p>

The Saturday following his discovery of magic, he was sat flicking through one of his new books – 'Hogwarts, A History'- and half-watching Sabina and Tom play tennis when someone tapped on his shoulder. He turned around so fast he almost gave himself whiplash, and was surprised to see Gabrielle Delacour, looking radiant.

'Bonjour, Alex! I 'ave come to invite you and your friends to a Quidditch match. We will see if I can introduce you to any 'Ogwarts students before you go.'

This was how Alex found himself attending his first ever Quidditch match, standing in the stalls with Gabrielle and her sister's family. He quickly decided that while entertaining, Quidditch ranked somewhere below footbal in terms of sports he liked, mainly because the rules were insane. He found himself watching the crowd as much as the match. People waved flashing banners, or used their wands to shoot multi-coloured sparks into the air. Gabrielle, who had been standing next to him, was now talking to a group of boys several rows behind. Tom was annoying the Wales supportes next to him by cheering loudly and obnoxiously for Bulgaria. Gabrielle's sister and her husband, however, were looking very serious, muttering quietly. Alex strained to hear what they were saying. They were talking in French, presumably to minimise the chance of eavesdropping. Unfortunately for them, French was one of the four languages Alex was fluent in.

' – hope the _Prophet _leak hasn't ruined their chances.'

'It looked like they'd planned for people to know, though. I'd feel better if Harry was taking them on with Ron and Hermione, not a couple of random Aurors.'

'It's awful. I really thought, after the war –'

'Enjoying yourself, Alex?' Gabrielle had returned. She jerked her thumb at the boys behind them. 'No use, they're from Durmstrang.'

Alex swallowed his annoyance at the interruption and made enthusiastic noises. He was fairly certain Fleur and Bill Weasley were talking about the Gringotts explosion he'd seen, but he'd thought that was a one-off. Now it seemed there'd been some kind of war..? He was distracted for the rest of the match, wondering whether he should ask Gabrielle about it or not. He eventually decided against it – he didn't know how they'd react, and he didn't know how he'd react if he found out that the British wizarding world was engaged in some kind of long-running conflict with Norway or whatever. He'd see if he could get any more information from his school books instead.

* * *

><p>Harry peered cautiously around the doorway and, seeing that the room was empty, gestured to Dennis Creevey to follow him in. He'd stationed Aurors all around the stadium, watching out for anything suspicious while he and Dennis searched the cellars underneath. Overhead, he could hear all the sounds of a concert getting underway, and the number of people who'd be there would definitely cause problems if they couldn't remove any threat quickly. Still, with a blanket anti-apparition ward over the whole area, he felt he'd done as much as possible to avoid any unpleasant surprises.<p>

He heard the sound of voices coming from a door on the other side of the room and crept towards it as quietly as possible. Dennis joined him, producing an Extendable Ear, and they both listened intently. It sounded like it was just a couple of staff avoiding work. He nodded to Dennis and they both stepped through the door, to find themselves in a long, narrow corridor. Two girls were sitting on a trolley to their left. Walking briskly, to avoid looking as though they weren't supposed to be there, Harry and Dennis turned right along the corridor. They were looking for places where the stadium could be accessed from the sewers, and it looked as though they'd found another. There was a manhole cover halfway down the corridor, and, trying not to look suspicious, Harry prepared to seal it. He was very aware of the two girls behind him. But as he lifted his wand to begin the incantation, he heard a shriek. He swung round, to see that another manhole cover had exploded behind him. Something was climbing out. As he ran forward, shouting to the girls to get behind him, he expected to see a wizard, but the cold which seemed to poison the air around him told a different story. Dementors.

All along the corridor now, Dementors were emerging from beneath the floor, grey scabby hands reaching for the four of them.

'Dennis, contact the others!' Harry shouted. 'We don't know how far this attack extends – they could be able to get in in lots of different areas. We need as many people as possible patrolling for Death Eaters!'

He didn't listen to see if Dennis complied, instead focusing on his memories of Ginny the previous evening. They'd gone out for supper at the Three Broomsticks.

'_Expecto Patronum_!'

The stag erupted out of his wand, charging the Dementors, herding them into a group which it began to chase down the corridor. He let out a sigh of relief and turned to see if the Muggles were all right. Then he heard another voice, from the other end of the corridor.

'_Expecto Patronum_!'

He turned around, only to see that the Dementors were coming back. Another silvery shape had joined that of his stag; a crocodile was biting at the Dementors' cloaks, forcing them back towards him. He flicked his wand, and Prongs ran to prevent them from getting any closer. They'd reached a stalemate, and Harry tried to see if he could glimpse whoever was casting the spell, but he couldn't see beyond the massed ranks of Dementors. Then whoever it was shouted _Bombarda_, and the ceiling exploded to the accompaniment of steadily increasing screams, as the Dementors rose upwards in pursuit of more prey.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider or Harry Potter.**

**Thanks for the reviews!**

[Chapter Six]

Harry instantly tried to apparate, only to be foiled by his own anti-apparition charms.

'Harry !' shouted Dennis, sounding panicked.

'Tell the others to move in.' Harry commanded, glancing wildly around the corridor for a way to climb upwards. The other Aurors would not be able to reach the Dementors in time to prevent casualties – in fact, they might already be too late. He jerked his wand, to send Prongs soaring upwards, where he leapt over several Dementors' heads and prevented them from rising. But he'd been too late to stop them all.

The walls had collapsed in, and the distance between them and the floor a few storeys above was too far to jump. The only thing travelling betweent the basement and the scene of the attack was … the Dementors themselves.

'Can you cast your Patronus?' Harry shouted to Dennis, 'And protect those girls?' Dennis still looked slightly shaky, unusual for the normally gung-ho trainee – on the other hand hundreds of Dementors bringing up your worst thoughts tended to do that to a person.

For a moment Dennis hesitated, then he drew himself up and shouted _Expecto Patronum! _as well. A silvery mongoose burst out of the tip of his wand, and he moved in front of the two girls.

Harry gestured Prongs towards him, then made a running leap at the rising mass of Dementors, managing to seize hold of a ragged cloak. Prongs circled around him at head height, keeping Dementors from getting too close to his mouth. Now he just had to hope the Dementor would be able to carry him upwards.

It seemed to be working, as Harry's feet lifted slowly off the ground. But an icy cold was spreading from his fingertips downwards, and he tried desperately to focus on happy thoughts.

_Me and Ginny are taking Teddy to the Zoo tomorrow – because Remus and Tonks can't, they're dead in a courtyard – no! Weasley family gathering to try and force Ron to propose to Hermione – not all the Weasleys, Fred's laughing, he's dead – _

Prongs was fading. Harry could see other Dementors through him, drifting slowly closer as they rose. The cold seemed to spread right through him – surely they must nearly be there now? He willed his fingers not to slacken and let go, Prongs not to vanish entirely. There was no way he'd be able to cast another Patronus Charm in this position –

'Come on, focus on your happiest memory!' he hissed to himself, and Hagrid's voice, still clear after all those years, said 'Harry – yer a wizard!' Harry remembered his huge, smiling face and the Dursley's horrified expressions, and Prongs seemed to solidify a bit. Ron on the train, fighting the troll – then they'd reached the stadium floor. He leapt to the side, rolling onto solid ground, and sent Prongs charging forward.

There were a lot of people, some lying worryingly still on the ground, others in the crush which had developed at the exits. Harry tried not to worry about them – they'd be able to get the parawizards in as soon as the place had been cleared of Dementors. Prongs was herding them into a huddle in the centre of the room, and Harry let out a sigh of relief as he saw several other Aurors blast their way through a wall, each accompanied by silvery Patronuses.

* * *

><p>Mrs. Jones wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or pleased when Kingsley Shacklebolt informed her that the unexplained collapse of a concert stadium in Liverpool and subsequent casualties were due to wizarding violence. The problem of who might be responsible had been troubling her, but knowing it was wizards meant she had no real way of preventing a similar event from arising in the future. For once, the Prime Minister seemed to feel much the same way as her, and he said somewhat frostily 'Well, that's very helpful, but not exctly reassuring. You (or your predecessor) assured me that attacks on normal people from your lot were very rare, and since then we've had wars and all sorts.'<p>

'I'm very sorry about that.' Kingsley replied. 'I didn't exactly see eye to eye with my predecessors either.'

'Have you formulated any strategies to deal with this issue?' Mrs. Jones asked.

'We're working on finding the culprits. It seems to be a new pureblood supremacist group, possibly funded with Bulgarian money. Unfortunately, we haven't been able to catch anyone involved in the attacks yet.'

'Well, do you have any idea where they might next strike?'

'No evidence, but we've got a few possibilities. There's the first ever House Elf Convention being organised for this Autumn, there's the werewolf community at St Hubert's, there's this muggleborn, Rider I think his name is, who's developed his magic late…That's always a potential rallying point, so many people still believe the old ideas about muggles stealing magic. And of course, there's always the possibility they'll just attack any muggle site. But of course you don't need to worry, we'll help…'

He carried on in this vein, but for once Mrs. Jones was too distracted to focus on how entirely unhelpful his information was in narrowing down potential targets. Rider…and Alan Blunt had said he'd seen Alex in Diagon Alley.

'What did you say this boy's name was?' she interrupted Shacklebolt.

'What? Oh, Rider. Alex Rider, I think. It's a very unusual case. But don't worry, we'll take care of him.'

'I'm sure you will.' Mrs. Jones replied, noncommitally. She caught the Prime Minister's eye – he'd clearly recognised the name as well. He must be 16 by now, she thought. Older, more able to cope – and if she just asked him to provide her with information, he wouldn't be in any danger at all. _You promised to leave him alone_, whispered a traitorous voice in her mind. _There's no danger_, she insisted, _not that doesn't already exist anyway_. Besides, she wouldn't blackmail him. She'd just ask – or get Smithers to.

* * *

><p>Ben crept along the hallway of the house. It had been child's play to get in, once he'd tried. The door hadn't even been locked. Just another clue pointing that this man was totally innocent, although a complete fool. He cracked open a door, to find a study. Moving over to the desk, he began going through the papers piled on top of it. He soon discovered that they made no sense at all. They seemed to be written in English, but contained funny, made-up words. There were plans of buildings and mentions of using the 'Cruciatus Curse' – whatever that was. He began to feel he'd stepped into the den of a madman. He was just beginning to photograph each individual sheet when he heard a voice behind him.<p>

'Well, well, well. What do we have here?'

He froze, then turned slowly around, holding both hands up in the air and trying to look harmless. 'I'm unarmed.'

'I know you are, Muggle.' Ben recognised Augustus Dwrg from the surveillance footage. He was brandishing a small stick, which didn't look likely to do much damage. If it did come down to a fight, Ben was confident he could get past him. He ran through his training manual on how to deal with unstable people, then, trying to sound as calm as possible, said,

'So, would you mind letting me past you?'

'Yes.' Then Dwrg lifted the stick, and said 'Avada Kedavra!'

There was a flash of green light, and Ben Daniels knew no more.

* * *

><p>It was the last few days before Alex went off to Hogwarts, and the Pleasures returned to America. They had gone in for an orgy of family time, from bowling sessions to fancy dinners, and Alex was glad to have escaped temporarily. He'd told Tom and Sabina he'd meet them at the cinema, but instead he was sitting next to a canal, staring into the distance. He'd sat here before, almost two years ago, following the Damian Cray incident. It seemed long distant now. This was his chance for a new beginning – learning magic was something completely different than anything else he'd done. He'd be able to turn over a new leaf, and forget the past.<p>

He'd thought that about America too, but it hadn't worked. He'd forgotten he'd have to bring himself along, and he'd ruined any new relationships – too paranoid to relax.

This time, he promised himself, it'll be different.

'Hullo, Alex.'

He hadn't heard that voice for months. He turned around, and sure enough, there was Smithers. He was in his work disguise, complete with accent, and Alex found it bizarre to think that there was a thin Irishman hidden inside.

'Do you mind if I sit down?' Smithers was looking very uncomfortable, and Alex felt a sense of dread creeping down his spine.

'Sure.' he said. Then, 'I'm not doing it! And you can't blackmail me, you haven't got anything to blackmail me with, not anymore – and don't you dare threaten the Pleasures! Besides, I can't do any work for you, I'm going to boarding school. Anyway, I thought you weren't coming near me! You said they shouldn't have done it –'

'I know I did.' Smithers said heavily.

'So what do you want from me?'

'It's not me, it's the Head. I'd rather-'

'If you'd rather, don't!' Alex wanted to storm off, but his legs didn't seem to be moving.

'Look, she said she wouldn't blackmail you, so you can say no. Just, please, listen. We know about the magic.' He went on for several minutes, laying out the situation, the plans, the threats. Finally, he finished by saying 'All we want is information – just general information. You don't need to go looking. Mrs. Jones could try getting it from Blunt, but it's like blood from a stone…'

'Blunt? What's he got to do with anything?'

'He's married to a witch. He saw you, in some magical place. Then the magic Prime Minister mentioned you, and she put two and two together.'

It was typical that Blunt would find some way to mess up Alex's life even after leaving office. Alex was almost relieved. It enabled him to hate Blunt rather than Jones, and Alex still felt guilty about that assassination attempt.

'What do you think?' he asked Smithers. 'Should I do it?'

'For your sake, I'd say not. For mine…I must say, I've missed doing gadgets for teenagers. Adults are so dull!'

'You wouldn't be able to use electricity. It doesn't work if there's too much magic around, someone told me.'

'Really? Hmm, there's a few ways I could get round that…' Smithers stared dreamily into the middle distance. Alex could see the gadgets developing behind his eyes. He was surprised to find he felt oddly nostalgic, thinking about all the gadgets Smithers had collected.

'Is there a real threat?' he found himself asking abruptly.

'Mmm?' said Smithers, torn away from his visions of clockwork cameras or whatever. 'Well, it certainly seems so. Apparently some mad wizards have been attacking all sorts of people. They were behind that collapse in Liverpool, you know. And…' he hesitated. 'There's a possibility you might be a target – or at least that's what their Minister thinks, apparently. Angry you became magic so late. That's how Jones found out about you.'

Alex hadn't considered that he might have enemies inside the wizarding world as well. He felt suddenly cold, and slightly unnerved that the minister for magic knew his name.

Smithers noticed. 'I get the impression they weren't worried. They seem pretty set up for lunatics attacking everyone.'

'If I agreed to this.' said Alex slowly, not entirely sure what he was thinking, 'Would I be able to set my own terms?'

'Yes, I'm sure, but I don't think –'

'Like, I'd get information which you lot knew about the wizarding world as well, and gadgets, and I wouldn't have to leave school unless I wanted to?'

'Definitely. I will ensure it. But really, you don't have to…'

'I almost want to. There are a lot of things I don't really understand about the wizarding world. And none of my history books tell me anything beyond the 1980s, but I get the impression that something big must have gone on'

'Well, I'm sure we can answer that.'

They both got up.

'Oh, one thing, Smithers?'

'Yes?'

'How do you know about magic? I'm guessing that politicians told Mrs. Jones, but I got the impression they didn't like anyone much to know.'

'Mrs. Jones told me. As a matter of fact, I wasn't sure I believed her until you took it all so seriously now. I thought she might be revealing an unsuspected sense of humour. Sadly not!'


	7. Discussions

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Alex Rider.**

**Thanks so much for the reviews, _Starry Bright Light, Mainn, Major Simi _and _pulchra fabula_!**

Discussions

There was something eerie about the way Liverpool Street remained the same, no matter how Alex had changed in the meantime. He even recognised one of the receptionists from previous visits. He'd managed to shake off Tom and the Pleasures again, mainly by encouraging Tom and Sabina to go and see a comedy film together. He was unsure how successful that particular outing was going to be, although Tom at least had high hopes. As far as Liz and Edward were concerned, the teenagers were all together at the park. Instead, Alex was attending his first briefing meeting at MI6 since Jack's death. He thought he should probably feel angrier: he'd been so determined he was never going back, but here he was walking meekly through the doors. All he was able to muster was a sort of weariness, that it was happening all over again.

After he'd told the receptionists he had an appointment, he went to wait in one of the leather armchairs in front of the window, but to his surprise an expressionless man appeared almost immediately to escort him upstairs. He didn't give as name, and Alex had no desire to ask. The agent led him to the familiar blank door and showed him in without knocking.

Here, at last,there seemed to be some change over the past months. Alex knew that Blunt had been forcibly retired, but it was still a shock to see Mrs Jones sitting at the desk, rather than floating round the chewing peppermints as she had done in the past. Instead there was a large box of them perched on the corner of her desk. There had been other changes to the room as well. Instead of the bland,inscrutable bookcase which had covered one wall when Blunt was in charge, there were some equally bland prints of flowers. The curtains had changed colour as well, from red to green. And Alex thought the walls might have been painted a slightly different shade of cream.

'Ah, sit down, Alex.' Mrs Jones looked up from her work immediately, and gestured to an armchair in front of her desk. This was a change! Alex sat down, and asked, 'What do you actually expect me to do?'

'It's more a fact-finding mission than anything else. Quite safe –'

'Spare me that.' Alex interrupted, more irritated than angry, 'We both know you're probably lying,and definitely can't promise me any help once I'm there, so there's no use pretending you care.'

He glared at Mrs Jones with angry eyes, looking far too old to be just a teenager. She felt suddenly, almost unbearably guilty, remembering the innocent fourteen-year-old Blunt had persuaded her into helping blackmail into MI6. He'd been so easy to anger then, furious at the missions Blunt (and you, a voice in her head hissed) had forced him on. Now, he just seemed blankly accepting of danger.

'The danger will be limited,' she insisted, 'We're not expecting you to visit anywhere outside of your school. We really just want general information about the wizarding world, about what it's possible to do with magic, and how powerful they are. How much they could, and have, affected British security.'

'So you don't know anything about it? Because I agreed to do this because I thought you could tell me about historical stuff. I didn't know you knew fuck-all.' Alex didn't know how he expected Mrs Jones to react to his swearing. He was hoping for something – shock, disdain, but she remained totally blank-faced.

'We do have some details, about recent history and current threats. I also got some further information from Alan Blunt. However, he was as always uninformative, and the Wizarding Prime Minister seems to like to keep his cards very close to his chest.' She hesitated, then said, 'You're unlikely to find out some of the information we have before you arrive at Hogwarts and perhaps not even then. It would be a shame, especially as you were personally mentioned by the magical Prime Minister.'

'I know I was.' said Alex, feeling grateful towards Smithers at the look of annoyance which flashed across Mrs Jones' face. Apparently he hadn't been supposed to know that much.

There was a short silence. Alex got the impression Mrs Jones was marshalling her resources, trying to form a plan of attack. Finally she said,

'I'm sure you've been able to find some information from your new schoolbooks. Where are the gaps?'

'After 1990.' Alex replied grudgingly.

'Well, I think we can help you there. Why don't I tell you most of what we know, if you promise that you _**will **_help us.'

'I don't need to be told to keep my promises.' Alex grumbled, but he made the deal.

* * *

><p>Later, as he walked down to see Smithers, he went over all he'd discovered. It seemed bizarre that a civil war could take place in the wizarding world without any normal people discovering it, still more so that someone like Voldemort could become so powerful in 21st century Britain. It was like a story from the 1940s. Then again, Diagon Alley hadn't exactly come across as modern.<p>

He hadn't mentioned to Mrs Jones that he'd met Harry Potter, who was apparently one of the heroes of the wizarding war. He'd already decided he'd provide as little information as possible.

Smithers was squashed behind his office desk, taking apart a small toy car with a screwdriver when Alex arrived. He looked delighted to see him.

'Won't deny, this was very difficult.' he confided, 'I'm not at all used to working without electricity, so there's a lot more concealment than usual.'

He reached behind his desk and brought out some huge hiking boots.

'I hope you're not expecting me to wear those. It's still August!'

'Don't worry, I've also provided you with a sandal edition although that's more limited. Now, these do have an electronic tracker and distress signal in the heel, which you can activate if you're somewhere they'll work. And here, in the leather lining, you'll discover there's a diamond edged blade. Should be useful if you need ti get out of any tight spots. Now, the laces are highly flammable, and will light and burn very hot if lit in right place by one of the matches I've hidden in the sole of the other boot. Do be careful with these, old chap. It's very easy for fires to go wrong.'

'I know.' said Alex, remembering various close shaves.

'And here's a book which doubles as a camera. The photographic film is hidden inside this coat hanger. And this…' – he produced a smarties tube – 'contains explosives. You put one in your mouth to activate it. Don't keep them in for more than 5 seconds: after 30, they'll blow your head off. The orange are the strongest, you'll want to be a safe distance away after placing them. The purple are the weakest. Really, all they'll do is knock a pile of papers over. The rest vary in between.'

He piled all the stuff up in front of Alex, who said 'No gun, then?'

Smithers looked suddenly crushed.

'It's all right.' Alex said, feeling slightly guilty. Smithers remained his only real friend at MI6.

'It's not.' Smithers muttered. 'You weren't supposed to get involved in this again.'

'I don't really care. You know I chose to this time.'

Smithers sighed. 'I can't even say after this, you've got to stop. I don't know what Mrs Jones wants. She promised this experiment was over.'

'I'm fine. I can't really be normal now, anyway.'

'Well, good luck. Have a cracking time. Boarding school's always full of merry japes.

'Did you go to boarding school?'

'No, but Smithers would have done.'

Smiling despite himself, Alex left the office and walked out of Liverpool Street. He loooked at the piece of paper showing the names Mrs Jones wanted him to try and find out more about.

_Zlatan Nedostovernov_

_ Radomir Losh_

_ ? Malfoy _

_ Harry Potter_

_ Longbottom._

_Augustus Drwg_

* * *

><p>Mrs Jones sat at her desk, exhausted, and once again read over Ben Daniels' autopsy report. He had been found lying in the middle of the pavement, just opposite the house she'd told him to stake out. The autopsy described him as being in perfect health, apart from being dead. Just like magic, she thought wearily.<p>

Ever since her discovery of magic, she'd felt like events were spinning out of her control. How could she effectively counter terrorists who could kill with weapons which would never be detected by Customs? Who had skills which it was impossible to learn? Ben Daniels had been one of MI6's fastest-rising agents, yet here he was dead with no sign of a struggle.

Should she have been more cautious in giving him the mission? She considered the matter once more, but there had been no indication Drwg was murderous, only her mild suspicions. Even after Kingsley Shacklebolt had announced the existence of magic to her, and given vague outlines of possible suspects, Drwg had not been mentioned. No. It was regrettable, but could not have been predicted. She knew very well if you started feeling responsible for agents' deaths, retirement was near. She sighed, and picked up her bag to leave. The funeral was at a church several miles from Liverpool Street, and she had no desire to be late.

* * *

><p>At the end of the service, as they all trooped out of the church, Wolf felt numb. He'd given his condolences to Fox's parents, but it still seemed hard to believe that he, Eagle and Snake could serve in Iraq and come back unharmed, but Fox had died on a mission in the UK. They'd always teased Fox about taking the safe option, something he'd usually been good-natured about. It was only once he'd got angry and insisted that wasn't true. Wolf guessed he must have been right.<p>

He was about to go over and join Eagle and Snake, who were standing together in a huddle with Jaguarundi, Snow Leopard, Laughing Gull and a few others, when he caught sight of Mrs Jones, and decided to make his way over.

She was standing alone, dressed in black and looking solemn. Behind her stood two bodyguards, trying to look casual and normal. She nodded at him when he approached.

'I'm very sorry for your loss. I know the two of you were good friends.'

'Was he doing something important?' The words almost burst out of him, as if somehow it would be better if he'd died nobly rescuing a child from the hands of its dastardly kidnapper than something more mundane.'

Mrs Jones stared at him expressionlessly. She was chewing on something, probably a peppermint. 'Yes. It was.'

'And it's safe now? He was successful?'

'We're going to continue our work. Someone else will be investigating. Good day.'

She turned away, and the bodyguards followed her. Wolf stared after her, wondering, not for the first time, why someone as lively as Fox had decided to work for an organisation as cold-blooded as MI6.

* * *

><p>Alan Blunt finished reading through the notes he'd compiled about all the attendees of the dinner he and Angioletta were attending that evening. He noted disapprovingly their failure to hide any dirty laundry: they were all prime subjects for blackmail. Still, that was hardly his concern any more. He removed a cigarette lighter from his drawer and set fire to the paper. There didn't seem to be any major dangers there: they'd have to be under very deep cover. If he attended, he would probably be offered a role in some kind of financial coroporation, which involved minimal effort on his part but a steady stream of income. Not that he needed the money…But the Prime Minister seemed to think it would make up for not getting a knighthood. Officially, it was still a possibility but Blunt knew that the Prime Minister was still worried that the Rider Affair would be discovered and he'd be blamed.<p>

He sighed and went downstairs. Ever since he and Angioletta had returned from their cruise, he'd been incredibly bored. She was busy with her job, flying winged horses, while he wandered aimlessly around, suddenly locked out of the circle of secret-keepers and –makers which he'd been part of for so long.

'You should do something interesting.' Angioletta said, coming across him sitting morosely on the sofa. He gave her a blank look. People often thought that he always looked blank, but in fact he'd always prided himself in being able to distinguish between being expressionless (his customary expression) and blank (only used when he didn't understand someone's point.)

'Not just complain about having no job. You could try cooking, no?'

'I know how to cook. A new skill would probably be better. Maybe I'll take up portraiture.'

She shrugged, and moved over to the mirror in the corner to adjust her hair.

'Do I look good?'

'Yes.'

'You can be more complimentary, it's fine.'

'You look wonderful.' said Blunt obligingly.

At this point, there was a crash as something flew through the sitting-room window, sending shattered glass flying everywhere. The Molotov cocktail hit the floor, and went up in flames. Blunt seized the pistol he kept stored under the sofa cushions, and Angioletta yanked her wand out of her pocket. Angioletta tried an extinguishing spell on the flames, but the water simply evaporated, so instead they ran into the hallway. Blunt glanced around the hall for signs of ambush, but could see nothing (not that that meant anything when magic was concerned, he thought bitterly). He crossed to the vase of flowers on a stand near the staircase and removed a knife from the centre.

'I knew I should have learned to Apparate. We have to go outside.'

At that point, the sitting room door exploded outwards in a hail of fiery sparks, somewhat hastening the process, and Blunt didn't have time to check for the enemy before they ran outside.

But the cloaked figures there were only running away, people Apparating as they went. There was just a sign, hanging in mid-air in red, smoky letters. It read 'Mudblood – lover WATCH YOUR BACK' and next to it was a picture of a skull.

* * *

><p>The emergency meeting was called by Kingsley. All over Britain, households where purebloods with muggle or muggleborn partners lived had been attacked, and those responsible were still on the rampage.<p>

'I want Aurors patrolling Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade heavily,' he said. 'We need to make sure no disruption can take place there. I want pairs of Aurors to go to all places where wizarding families are grouped. We need to try and stop this. We don't know how they got their information about who to target, but God knows there are a lot of possible people to hurt.'

Harry was dashing over to where Robards was organising patrols when Kingsley called him over. He went reluctantly.

'I don't want you going out there, Harry.'

'What do you mean? We need everyone we can out there, and you know I'm…good at duelling.'

'One of the best there is, you mean. No need to be quite so modest.'

'Well then! I can help try and capture some of these _bastards_!'

'We need to talk to people who've been attacked. Try and find out what they know. Some of them might have seen faces. And besides, we need to record messages before they're forgotten.'

'But Ron and Hermione…'

'Are fine. Considerably better off than some of the other people who were attacked. I don't want you to do anything stupid, Harry.'

He was probably talking about the whole using-a-dementor-as-a-lift thing.

'I thought, after we defeated Voldemort, this would all be over.' Harry said, frustrated. 'People would realise how stupid it all was.'

'I know you did. You were only seventeen.'

Harry sighed. 'If you're sure I won't be more help out in the field.'

'People are going to trust you, Harry. They're certain you're on their side.'


	8. All Aboard

**Disclaimer: Neither Harry Potter nor Alex Rider are mine.**

**Thanks for the reviews, _Guest, Mythomagic-Champion, CoolerThanThouArt _(nice username!), _Sugilite Purple _(Thanks for the long review, & grammar advice, & I based having Death Eaters at large on JK Rowling saying the Malfoys didn't go to jail.), _Mainn, Major Simi, MonssterUnderYourBed & alice419._**

**Sorry about the long delay.**

All Aboard

The next morning, Alex, Tom and the Pleasures set off for King's Cross. In the past few weeks, while Alex had been distracted, Tom and Sabina seemed to have become inseparable. He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about this – there was always the vague worry that whenever he wasn't there, they were talking about him, although when he had raised the subject with Sabina she had burst out laughing.

'Can you read through the instructions one last time, Alex?' asked Edward, as they slammed the boot of the car shut and began a slow crawl down traffic-clogged streets.

Alex had already read out the instructions for catching the Hogwarts Express at least ten times, but he didn't blame Edward for his incredulity.

'Walk through the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten in order to reach Platform Nine and Three Quarters. From here, you will be able to catch your train, departing at 11'o'clock.

N.B. Muggles wishing to wave their children off from the train will be able to get through to the platform if holding on to a magical person. Please try to do this in as surreptitious a way as possible.'

Alex had been to King's Cross in the past, and he remembered the barriers between the two platforms as looking very solid.

'I can't wait to try it!' Tom said gleefully.

'Are you all intending to come through, then?' asked Alex. He had a vision of them all walking towards the barrier, he pushing a trolley, everyone else clinging on to his arms and legs.'

'Of course!' said Sabina indignantly.

'It's just, I'm not eleven. I can look after myself.'

'Well, we're going to.' Liz said definitively. 'Hopefully there'll be some of your classmates there as well, Alex. We can look and see how they get through the barrier.'

As they wheeled Alex's trolley full of luggage through King's Cross station, he felt a slight twinge of nerves. Partially, this was due to the massive crowds which always filled the station: it would be very easy for an enemy to attack, although at least it would also be possible for him to lose himself fairly quickly. He was also nervous about the school, and the possibility that he would once again fail to move on from Jack, and the events of that summer. Sabina must have noticed something in his expression, because she suddenly nudged him, and muttered,

'Cheer up! Everyone'll love you.'

Alex couldn't bring himself to point out to her how incredibly untrue that had turned out to be in San Francisco, and how unlikely it was to be different this time. Instead, he forced a smile, then averted his gaze, scanning the railway station for signs of other witches and wizards.

He spotted a harried – looking woman, with two young girls and a trolley with a bird cage perched precariously on top. As he watched, they began running towards Platforms Nine and Ten and vanished behind a crowd of people. Looking carefully, he began to notice other families heading in the same direction, distinguishable by their bizarre clothing choices and a disproportionate number of owls. Yet none of the ordinary everyday commuters seemed to notice anything odd. He supposed it was true that most people paid no attention to what was going on around them.

'Right, shall we give it a go?' asked Liz, and they began to walk slightly uncertainly in the direction of Platforms Nine and Ten.

Suddenly, Alex felt someone tap him on the shoulder. He whirled around, moving his feet into a better position to balance his weight, and raised his fists in a defensive position.

'Blimey!', the tall, gawky–looking boy in front of him said. He had messy brown hair, and brown eyes and was wearing a scruffy–looking tracksuit. Alex noticed that he also had a trolley piled high with luggage. He lowered his fists, cautiously.

'All right, all right,' – the teen looked relieved – 'I was just gonna say, if you want Nine and Three-Quarters, I'm Hogwarts as well. You can follow me if you like.'

'Are you a wizard too, then?' asked Tom cheerfully, as they continued walking.

The teenager cast a cautious look around, and said he was in a considerably lower voice, adding 'My name's Jake Paddy. What about you lot?'

The explanations took them all the way through the barrier, so fast that Alex barely even noticed it happening. He noticed the other side, though.

It was like stepping into a different world. A bright red steam train, bearing the words 'Hogwarts Express' was in the station. He and the others were stood under a swinging wooden sign reading 9¾. Meanwhile, around them was a vast hustle and bustle, of hundreds of people armed with large trunks. Alex wondered how on Earth they'd all managed to get through the wall without attracting suspicion. Half of them were dressed in the flowing robes he'd seen in Diagon Alley, mostly in black but some in a vast array of different colours. He spotted one middle-aged lady dressed in a flowing golden robe and glittering witch's hat, covered in stars. She was accompanied by a crew of noisy children, all shouting at each other and waving wands, broomsticks and owls about. Nearby, a teenage girl was trying desperately to get away from her parents, who were clinging to her, waving handkerchiefs.

'So, ready to go then, Alex?' asked Edward. He sounded like he was trying to be jovial, but he looked uncomfortable, eying the massed crowds around them slightly uncertainly.

They all lined up to say goodbye to him. Edward shook his hand, then suddenly gave him a hug. Liz gave him a kiss on each cheek. Sabina flung her arms around him, and kissed him as well.

'You will write, won't you?', she asked.

'Of course I will.' Alex said, feeling rather emotional himself. He hadn't exactly enjoyed his time living with the Pleasures, but he wouldn't really have enjoyed living anywhere (apart from with Jack) and he couldn't think of another option where the people would have been so understanding. 'To all of you.', he added, and then felt guilty for how pleased Liz looked.

He looked over to Tom, was still chatting to Jake excitedly, asking him question after question without leaving time for him to answer. Finally, he paused for breath and Alex seized the opportunity to say goodbye to him as well. Then he picked up his trunk off the trolley and headed across to the train.

Jake caught up with him as he lugged it up the steps and onto the train.

'Oi! Wait for me, why don't you!'

He jerked his head towards the watching Pleasures.

'They reckon you need someone to show you the ropes.'

What Alex really wanted was to sit alone in an empty compartment, but he recognised that probably wasn't the best decision.

They wandered along the train, with Jake occasionally pausing to wave at various people, until finally they reached the end carriage, which was empty.

'Me and my mates always get this one.' Jake said, lifting his trunk up onto the luggage rack above their heads. Alex did the same.

They sat down, and there was a slightly awkward silence. Finally, Alex said 'So, have you got anyone coming to see you off?'

'What? No, no, my family are all too busy for that. We've got a shop.'

'Have you? What's it called?'

'Paddy's. My grandad wasn't that imaginative. You might've seen it. We're on Diagon Alley.'

'Your family are all magical then?'

'Yeah, we're all pureblood. You not, right?' He looked suddenly inquisitive.

'No, not that I know of…'

'Might want to keep that quiet when Oswin turns up.'

'Why?'

'Oh – well – just, 'is family's very traditional.'

'Traditional?'

'I mean, they sort-of disapprove of mu – muggleborns getting in. I mean, I couldn't care less, personally. Just, you don't need to shout about it, do you?'

'Right.' Alex hadn't been intending to mention it, but now felt slightly differently. 'Do many people feel that way?'

'No, no – I mean, there's loads of muggleborns now. All sorts, actually.' Clearly fishing around for a change of subject, he said 'So, d'you know what 'ouse you want to be in?'

'I hadn't really thought about it.'

'Well, I'm in Hufflepuff, and it's pretty much the best.'

He launched into a long description of the failures of all the other houses, for which Alex only had to smile and nod. Soon, various other people arrived, who Jake introduced – 'This is Oswin' – a short, dark-haired boy, 'and Jagjit' – who was slightly taller, and dragging along a small girl with her hair in pigtails, who he explained was called Rukmini, - 'and Martin' – who was a red-head with a very bad sunburn, 'and Ambrose' – who was built like a large, blond tank: Alex had never seen anyone who looked like less of an Ambrose.

They all looked slightly confused to see Alex there, and he repeated his explanation of just discovering his magic several times. Luckily, none of them questioned his family background, so he didn't have to decide whether to lie or not about where he came from. Soon, they all started talking together about their own affairs, totally ignoring him as they caught up on summer news. He found himself sitting opposite Rukmini, who kept on glancing nervously around the compartment, avoiding eye-contact, then going back to staring at her shoes.

'So, are you new as well?' he asked her.

She traced a small circle in the floor with her toes, then said 'Yes.' very quietly.

'You must be really looking forward to it?'

'Yes.'

'We'll probably be in some of the same classes, at first. I haven't learnt anything yet.'

'Yes.' She didn't look particularly thrilled by this information, and Alex decided he'd done his best and went to sleep.

When he woke up, they were arriving at Hogsmeade station, and he had to change very quickly. He got off, and Jake shoved he and Rukmini in one direction, hissing 'You got to take the boats.'

They followed a huge man, who introduced himself as Hagrid and helped Alex feel slightly less out-of-place among the hordes of 11-year-olds, across to a huge lake, where they climbed into small boats to continue their journey.

Alex couldn't help feeling a slight sense of excitement when he saw Hogwarts for the first time. It was a huge castle, with buildings straggling off into the distance every which way. The windows were all illuminated, stretching upwards as well.

It was no less impressive inside. They were introduced to the Deputy Headmistress, who was called Professor Sprout, and led through corridors lined with moving paintings, who cheerfully discussed them as they passed. Alex had read about these in his textbooks, and had thought they'd be just like televisions, but televisions didn't say things like

'Oh, that one's a bit peaky, think she needs Madame Pomfrey?' or

'What's that tall one doing?'

The ghosts came as a bit of a shock as well, as did the open sky which formed the ceiling of the Great Hall. But it wasn't until he found himself standing in a long line, listening to a old hat singing, that he wondered if he was really dreaming.

_Don't worry, you're not, _the hat said, when he became the first to sit down on the stool after having his circumstances explained.

'Very helpful.' he muttered to it.

_You don't have to talk. Just think it, I can read your mind._

This was only slightly creepy.

_Now, where should I put you. You don't have a lot of ambition, so that's Slytherin out. You're clever, but you don't seem like much of a bookworm. No, I don't think Ravenclaw would suit you._

Alex looked out from under the hat towards the remaining two houses. One had a giant lion banner above it, the other a badger. He couldn't help feeling the badger house had got a bit of a raw deal.

_Hufflepuff _, the hat said, _for those who are loyal, even if others sneer. And Gryffindor is for the brave and reckless. I think both of those could suit you very well. Hmmm. But I see you have had bad experiences with both these traits._

_Have I?_

_ Of course! You cannot be blackmailed into loyalty! Nor should you be forced into bravery. Still, overall, better be GRYFFINDOR!_


	9. Developments

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Alex Rider.**

**Thanks for the reviews, Mythomagic-Champion, MonssterUnderYourBed, Sugilite Purple and alice419 (it definitely is the best house!)**

Developments

'You must be Alex Rider', an officious-looking red-haired boy said, extending his arm across the table. Alex successfully prevented himself from pointing out his name had just been called out to the whole hall, and shook it.

'Professor McGonagall told all us prefects about you. You're to share a dorm with us fifth-years, although of course at first you'll be having lessons with the first-years. My name's Nicholas by the way, Nicholas – ' – he suddenly fell silent, as various of the teachers at the high table cast withering looks in their direction. The rest of the first-years still had to be sorted. For the next hour, Alex got steadily more hungry, as the procession of small children dawdled slowly through the alphabet, interspersed by applause from any one of the four tables. At long last, 'Weasley, Margaret' was called and a short girl with two long ginger plaits bounded across to the hat. Seconds later, the Gryffindor table burst into applause. Nicholas even stood up, and was gesturing the girl over to him but she ignored his wild signalling and went to sit with some other new pupils at the opposite end of the table.

A tall, distinguished-looking woman, who Alex recognised as Minerva McGonagall from the Weasleys' dinner party, stood up and welcomed them all to Hogwarts, and then – suddenly, the table was loaded down with delicious looking food, served on golden plates. Alex helped himself to leg of lamb and roast vegetables, deciding to avoid the plums on cinnamon toast with lamb option the eleven-year-old boy next to him was having.

'So, is she your sister?' he asked Nicholas casually. He remembered Mrs Jones had told him that some Weasleys had been involved in the Wizarding War.

'Yes, she is. I've got some brothers as well, although of course I'm the oldest.' Nicholas smiled slightly smugly.

Alex found this unsurprising. He tried to think of a subtle way to bring up his next point, but found it difficult, so eventually went for straightforward.

'The Weasleys are quite well-known in the wizarding world, aren't they? I've heard about you.'

'You wouldn't have heard about us.' Nicholas said abruptly. 'My cousins – they're the famous ones. They fought Voldemort and everything. Have you heard of him?'

Alex nodded, and he continued, slightly suspiciously 'And didn't you go to dinner at my aunt and uncle's house? They mentioned you.'

'Yes.' Alex said hastily, 'But I didn't know anything about them then. They didn't mention it. I only heard more later.'

'Yes, well, they're very modest.' Nicholas said slightly bitterly.

Alex decided it was time for a subject change, and hastily asked how many siblings Nicholas had. This proved ideal, as it turned out that he had five, all of whom he was willing to expound on at length, telling Alex far more than he wanted to know. Meanwhile, Alex was able to get on with finishing his lamb and vegetables, which were very tasty.

At the end of the meal, and following the singing of the Hogwarts school song, which Professor McGonagall introduced with a grimace, Nicholas beckoned to Alex, and said 'Us prefects will be leading all the first years to the Common Room, so just stick with me.'

Soon Alex found himself following Nicholas, and another prefect who introduced herself as Thomasina Trotter, out of the Great Hall. Their journey to the Gryffindor Common Room took place to the accompaniment of a soundtrack of gasps from the new first-years, which Alex noticed contained Rukmini from the train. Still, he could hardly blame them. It was an effort not to gasp himself as they swung across vast halls on moving staircases, or crouched their way along tunnels hidden by tapestries. The prefects assured them that they were being taken the shortest possible route to the common room, but Alex had a strong suspicion they just were showing off the castle. To be honest, he couldn't really blame them.

Finally, they arrived at a portrait of a fat lady dressed in pink, who giggled and waved at them.

'The password's _Golden Snitch_. Remember it.' Thomasina told them, and the portrait slid open so they could all climb inside. The Gryffindor Common Room's furnishings were the complete opposite of either Ian Rider or the Pleasures'. Ian's house had always been beautifully decorated, with artefacts brought back from his travels abroad, and a large number of vintage wine bottles scattered throughout the house. In contrast, the Pleasures went in for minimalism, with streamlined metal and wood a prominent feature. The Gryffindor Common Room was instead stuffed full of slightly faded, comfy-looking armchairs. It had a prominent red-and-gold theme, and there was a massive fireplace near the door, while on the other side of the room several windows gave glimpses of a starry sky outside.

'Do you want me to show you our dorm?' Nicholas asked, and Alex, who had no desire to join the throng of people chatting about their summer holidays, agreed. The dorm had five double-poster beds in it, each with luggage stacked at the foot. Two boys were already up there, who introduced themselves as Alfie Cattermole and Jacky Tripe, telling him the last member of the dorm was called Michael Avis, although he wasn't yet there.

Alex found himself surprisingly tired, so following the introductions he quickly went to bed. He considered writing a letter to Mrs Jones, but there didn't seem to be a lot to tell yet, so instead he drifted off into what turned out to be a restless sleep.

* * *

><p>Gawain Robards had organised a meeting. This was something he didn't usually do, as meetings required setting aims, and Robards preferred to avoid revealing his aims if at all possible, on the basis that it might tell people what he actually thought, something which he had studiously avoided for the past twenty years.<p>

Nevertheless, and (Harry suspected) partially due to pressure from Kingsley, Robards was holding a meeting to decide what to do in response to the widespread attacks on muggleborns. All the more senior Aurors were there, and bickering over how much effort to expend.

'Look, there's every possibility it's just a one-off. The Pureblood League have yet to repeat themselves, have they?'

'Do we want to take a chance? Far better to be safe than sorry.'

'It's not as if we've got unlimited resources. We can't possibly guard every single muggleborn household, and pursue the League!'

'I'm surprised more people hadn't invested in some basic protections.'

'Well, why should they?'

'What do you think?' someone muttered in Harry's ear. He turned around, recognising Lucas Proudfoot. Proudfoot was one of the oldest Aurors, of only a handful to have survived both Voldemort's wars. He always reminded Harry of a slightly less reliable version of Mad-Eye Moody.

'You know what I think.' Harry retorted. 'We need to make sure everyone is safe, with training and protection, while searching down the Pureblood League.'

'Not possible.' Proudfoot said dismissively. 'We don't have nearly enough manpower. Did I ever tell you about how the Aurors were when I joined? Twice as many of us as there were today. We used to spend our time helping old ladies put up their curtains! But ever since then, it's gone downhill. All these attacks – we can't use half the force we used to have. No way of covering enough ground.'

'Well, what would you suggest then?'

'International Confederation of Wizards.' Proudfoot said promptly 'We can apply to them for peace-keeping forces. They didn't send any last time, they don't like to get involved in lost causes. But we're not so unstable this time. Still, it'll never happen. Too unpopular, the public won't like it. But that's what should be done.' He nodded once, apparently unbothered by the futility of his scheme, and turned away.

'We should do that!' Harry said, loudly, attracting the attention of the rest of the Aurors, all of whom had the same opinion as Proudfoot as to whether it would happen, and differing opinions as to whether it should.

Sometimes he wondered if it was worth getting involved as an auror, when so much time was wasted arguing with each other.

Robards said abruptly, 'Regardless of desirability, I don't think it's possible to get the I.C.W involved. Britain is not a focus of theirs, I'm afraid.'

'You mean they've washed their hands of us,' someone interjected.

'A large number of people will be remaining at St Mungo's for a few days. We can assign guards there who can also teach some defensive tactics. Otherwise, we assign Aurors only for those with the greatest need. For example, I think Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger can look after themselves.'

That depended on the number of people attacking them, but Harry couldn't think of a better solution, apart from applying to the I.C.W, which anyway could drag on for months.

* * *

><p>Mrs Jones was in a good mood as she returned to her penthouse flat in Smithfields. MI6 had just successfully foiled a plot to kill the Prime Minister and most of his cabinet with poisonous wallpaper in a complicated operation which had involved the arrest of dozens of treacherous painter-decorators. The Drwg case was far from her mind as she entered the lobby, then stopped abruptly. The security guard at the desk was slumped over, although there was no sign of a struggle. She glanced hastily around the room. It had been designed so there was nowhere possible to hide, and she couldn't see anyone. She crossed over to the guard, moving behind him so her back was to the wall, before reaching forward to pull him backwards. He stared up at her blankly, through terrified eyes. It was exactly the same as Ben Daniels had looked. She found herself taking several deep breaths, before pulling herself together. She had no way of knowing whether the wizards were still in the building. It would be pointless to call in reinforcements now, as she couldn't possibly explain the threat they might be facing. Heading outside to the fire escape, she began climbing up the staircase, trying to move as quietly as possible on a staircase which had been designed to do precisely the opposite.<p>

When she reached the top, she peered through the windows, but couldn't see anyone. Taking out her heat sensor (disguised as foundation), she checked the room. The only source of heat she could find was her cat, although unfortunately it wasn't strong enough to search through two walls. Carefully, she unlocked the door and slid in, making only a small creaking noise. Unfortunately, that was too much. From her bathroom, she heard a man say 'What's that?'

'Probably the cat. Check if you like.'

As she hid behind a curtain, she heard a murmuring and then the bathroom door burst open, revealing two tall men wearing masks, pointing sticks straight at her.

'Come out, come out,' one said musically, 'or we'll make you.'

She fumbled hastily in her handbag, pulling out her pistol as one of them shouted '_Cruc_-'

BANG. The bullet hit him in the head, and he collapsed. Mrs Jones had always prided herself on her shooting prowess. She'd thrown the other man, as well, - he looked astonished to see what had happened, but she knew she didn't have much time.

As he turned, she threw herself out from behind the curtain, and behind the sofa. The green light of the first spell he threw at her sizzled harmlessly into the curtain.

'Who are you?' She asked. 'What do you want?'

'I might ask the same of you,' he replied, waving his wand so her next shot rebounded off a shimmering shield he'd created in midair. 'Why did your company seek to enter my house, muggle?'

'You're a suspected criminal.' He suddenly disappeared with a pop. Another pop, and he reappeared directly behind her: she only just had time to duck and avoid another jet of green light which shot inches over her head. But his shield had vanished when he had moved. She shot at his wand arm, but missed, just grazing his elbow, then swung hastily over the sofa. She spun around in the middle of the room as he followed suit, just in time for him to shoot more green light in her direction. Seizing hold of a volume of _Encyclopedia Brittanica _which had been lying on the coffee table, she held it in front of her, managing to block the spell, then shot him in the groin. This time, she hit her target. He doubled over and she was able to spring forward and wrench his wand out of his hands. She twisted them behind his back, when suddenly he vanished, with another pop. She was left holding onto thin air.

Making sure his wand was safely secure, and also removing the other man's, she picked up Q and made her way out of the flat. It would, she thought, be a good idea to get Kingsley Shacklebolt to check it and the man inside before she returned.

* * *

><p>Alex was watching Jack die again in his dreams. He could see her starting the car, driving off across the desert…Razim was telling him about the explosives. <em>No<em>, he muttered, _don't do it, don't do it_,_ STOP – _someone was shaking him awake.

He opened his eyes to see the looming countenance of Alfie Cattermole.

'Bad dream?' he asked briskly. 'You were shouting a bit.'

Alex opened his mouth to deny it, but he could tell it would be pointless.

'Do you want me to show you the kitchen? I fancy something to eat.'

Anything seemed better than sleep. Alex nodded dumbly, and followed Alfie out of the dormitory, trying to ignore the three gaps in the curtains where the other boys were watching him.

They didn't talk as they made their way through the silent hallways, occasionally having to duck behind pillars to avoid ghosts. Alex was grateful for that, he was still trying to calm himself down. At last, they headed through a portrait of a pear to reach a giant, deserted kitchen.

'It's usually full of house-elves, but they'll be in bed by now.' Alfie said cheerfully, and put the kettle on.

Once they were sitting down, each with a mug of hot chocolate topped by a truly astonishing amount of cream, Alex said 'I don't want to talk about it.'

'Well, that's all right. I probably don't want to hear. I get the most terrible nightmares sometimes. All about scissors and heights and that. I mean, everyone gets nightmares. There's nothing wrong with that.'

'You don't understand.' Alex found himself saying. 'My nightmares are _real_.'

'Oh.' Alfie regarded Alex thoughtfully, sipping his hot chocolate. He had a moustache of cream all around his upper lip. 'That must make it harder. My mum gets those sometimes. She was a muggleborn, you see, during the war. Have you heard of the war?'

Alex, who had been about to dismiss this, found himself nodding.

'Was it a long time ago, what happened?'

'No. Quite recently.' Alex stared fixedly at his mug. 'And it was all my fault.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes! Well, I…'

Alfie got up, and began opening some cupboards. Alex wiped his eyes furiously, then purposefully smashed the mug.

'Want to think about something else?' Alfie asked.

Alex was torn between a desire to shout at him, to be alone, and the fact that thinking about something else was very appealing. He nodded, slightly jerkily.

'I'll show you how to make the world's best chocolate cake.'


	10. More Developments

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Alex Rider.**

**Sorry for the long delay, & short chapter! Thanks so much for the reviews, Analya-Goddess of Emotions, General E, ihatecliffhangers, Tenshi Aine, Morphixgirl, percyjackson2012 and Mythomagic-Champion!**

More Developments

Alex woke up early the next morning, and headed down to the Great Hall before any of the other boys had stirred, not wanting to talk with Alfie again. Luckily, a memory honed in spying missions allowed him to find the Great Hall without any trouble and he settled down to a comfortable cooked breakfast at a totally empty table.

He had nearly finished when a couple of boys his age drifted over.

'What do you think you're doing?' one of them, a thickset blond boy with gorilla-like arms, asked aggressively.

Alex raised his eyebrows. 'Eating. It's lovely to meet you, too.' He made to turn back around, but the other boy grabbed his shoulder. Alex tensed automatically.

'What are you doing here? This is the Slytherin table. Weren't you sorted into Gryffindor? We don't want your lot round here.'

'My lot?' Alex unsuccessfully fought the urge to roll his eyes. 'Taking things a bit seriously, aren't you?'

The second boy was eyeing him beadily. 'What's your name again?'

Alex stared. 'Is this the way you usually introduce yourself?'

'You're a mudblood, aren't you?'

'We should teach him a lesson.'

The boy's grip on Alex's shoulder tightened, while the other one reached in his pockets for what Alex supposed must be his wand. But their reflexes were slow and Alex had had enough. He forced himself to his feet, kneeing the boy holding him in the groin. As he doubled over, Alex grabbed the other boy before he could raise his wand and slammed him face-first into the remainder of his bacon and egg. Then he marched out of the Great Hall before any of the other slightly startled-looking diners could stop him.

* * *

><p>Harry was meeting with Professor McGonagall over arrangements regarding muggleborn students. The Aurors had kept up an unobtrusive watch on the train journey from Platform 9¾ in case of further political attacks: however, it hadn't yet been decided how protection should continue at Hogwarts. Gawain Robards had shown no signs of organising anything, so Harry had decided to take things into his own hands. Luckily, he'd already made copies of all the documents relating to the Pureblood League to share with Ron and Hermione, and now he presented them to Professor McGonagall to have a look at. She glanced through them, her eyes lingering on the 'CONFIDENTIAL' at the top of each page. When she'd finished, she glanced up at him, looking tired.<p>

'Quite honestly, Potter, I don't know what to say. Notwithstanding the fact that the ministry itself has shown no signs of providing Aurors for Hogwarts, they might easily do more harm than good. Everyone's nervous at the moment, and if parents see Aurors hanging around Hogwarts and assume it's been marked as a target, they might easily take their children away. And Hogwarts is the safest place for them.'

Harry could see her point, but...'What if the attacks come from inside Hogwarts? From the students? Remember Malfoy?'

'How could I forget? Especially when he's applying to be a school governor.'

'What, Malfoy?' Harry wasn't sure what he'd expected Malfoy to do after school, but this didn't seem very like him. Then again Harry didn't really know what would be like him – rolling around mounds of gold in his manor house, possibly.

'Yes, he sent me an letter after Elfreda Jones died, suggesting it would be good to have someone young, keen and enthusiastic, with relevant experience in the school in recent years.'

Harry snorted. 'Did he ever even finish seventh year? Or was he too tied up being an underage member of a terrorist organisation?'

McGonagall sighed. 'It might be good to have him on board. I get so many letters from hardline purebloods, saying that Hogwarts is brainwashing their children. We want to avoid being seen as biased – it just encourages grievances.'

Harry scowled. 'I don't see why we have to pretend murderers have any validity.'

'He's not a murderer, though. That's the point. Better him than a Lucius – which is what they really want.'

'I know.'

McGonagall shuffled some papers around on her desk, then said thoughtfully, 'How about the DA?'

'Start them up again, you mean?'

'Not necessarily, although that's a possibility. I was thinking, how busy are its members? Neville will obviously be working here, but possibly we could work out an excuse for others to stop by as well.'

'That's an idea!' Harry thought rapidly through the list of names. 'Ginny might be available – she's on the reserve team for the Harpies at the moment, but she;s got some spare time. And then there's George and Angelina...'

They had both settled down to sorting out who to approach and what valid excuses they could find when there was a knock on the door.

'Come in!' shouted Professor McGonagall, and two boys entered the room. One was walking very gingerly and the other had a slightly swollen face.

'Crabbe? Roper? What on earth happened?'

'That nutter new boy just attacked us, professor!'

'We were just being friendly, and he went mental!'

McGonagall sighed, then said to Harry 'We'd better continue this at some other time. I've got to sort all this out.'

* * *

><p>Mrs Jones and Kingsley Shacklebolt were having a conversation over tea and biscuits. Actually, to call it a conversation would be very generous: they were both trying to get as much information as possible out of the other, while at the same time limiting what they revealed and keeping their tempers. It was a difficult skill, and one which Mrs Jones was very good at.<p>

'So, you haven't been able to identify the dead man?'

'No, not yet...and we don't know why they targeted you?'

Mrs Jones said smoothly, 'I suppose they might know I was important in the non-magical world.'

'That's not usually their style – they prefer not to expend any effort in understanding the muggle world. And the man who vanished?'

'I'm afraid he was wearing a mask.'

'Just like other occasions. Oh well.'

'Have you had any other events within the wizarding world?'

'There were attacks on many mixed-blood households just a couple of nights ago. No deaths, thankfully, but some serious casualties. It's awful, this break-out of violence has happened so suddenly. You feel it must be planned.'

Mrs Jones filed away this information for closer consideration later.

'So, you don't have any further names or follow-ups?'

'Not yet. I'll tell you if we do manage to identify this man.'

* * *

><p>Alex spent the next hour skulking around, hiding behind pillars whenever he heard people approaching. He couldn't be as invisible as he liked, however, as the portraits found his meanderings very curious. He's soon collected a flock of knights, ladies and various others who followed him around, debating with each other as to what he was doing.<p>

Finally, he saw it was around 8.30. He was supposed to meet the head mistress at that time to have his timetable sorted out, and having asked the painted group behind him (who all said 'Oh, why didn't you say so in the first place? You didn't need to spend so long wandering around.'), he headed for her office.

He knocked, and heard McGonagall's voice telling him to come in. When he opened the door, he saw the two boys he'd attacked standing beside her desk. They looked extremely smug.

'And what do you have to say for yourself?' she asked.


	11. Standoff

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Alex Rider.**

**Thanks very much for all the reviews, My-Name-is-Classified, Fate's Silver Chain, Guest, PlatinumOwl, bartimeus, seikoxxx, General E and Atheriia. I'm very sorry about the long gap, my only excuse is laziness. **

Standoff

'Well?' McGonagall demanded. Her mouth was straighter than a ruler. 'I doubt it will come as a surprise to you to know we do not condone assault at this school.'

Alex glared at the two smirking boys. He must have looked quite alarming, because they both lost the grins and began avoiding his eyes. He said 'I don't have anything to say.'

McGonagall sighed. 'Very well then. I will be taking 50 points from Gryffindor for this particular stunt, and if I hear of anything like it happening again, you will be in very serious trouble.'

She turned to the other boys. 'Now, if you two will leave us, I need to talk to Mr Rider privately.'

With a flick of her wand, the door opened. Once they had gone, another flick shut the door and she gestured Alex into a chair in front of her desk.

'Have a Chocolate Frog,' she ordered him, thrusting a box imperiously in his general direction. Alex rummaged in the box, keeping his eyes fixed on hers. This proved a mistake, as the Chocolate Frogs all hopped away from his hand and he ended up having to karate chop one as it hopped across Professor McGonagall's desk. Its head went in one direction and the body the other, but at least it stopped moving of its own accord.

It didn't feel like an auspicious start. McGonagall seized one Chocolate Frog precisely by the throat and swallowed it whole (presumably to show off) before she began.

'As I'm sure you know, most witches and wizards begin their magical education at eleven, by which time their powers have come into fruition. Yours is a special – although not unique – case.'

'So there are other people like me here?' Alex asked.

'No. There have been no others in the fifty years I've been teaching. However, Professor Binns, our History of Magic Professor, can recall three in his three – hundred and seventeen year career, and records of several more. Several of them eventually settled in quite well.'

'And the rest?'

'Were slightly less successful. It's going to be tough, I'm afraid, Mr. Rider. You will be attending lessons with the First Years initially, but will also take remedial classes with me. Hopefully, we will be able to move you through the curriculum rather more quickly than the First Years, and you will be able to move into classes closer to your age. Now, here's your timetable.'

He examined it carefully. The timetable showed he had remedial classes three times a week, in the evening. Today, he had Herbology (which his books had suggested was a bit like Biology), Defence Against the Dark Arts and Flying. Having remedial classes would cut into the amount of time he would be able to spend trying to find information for Mrs Jones and MI6. On the other hand, he could always try fishing for information from Professor McGonagall...

'Any questions?' Professor McGonagall enquired. She was watching him beadily.

'Not particularly,' he shrugged. He wouldn't start an inquisition right now. 'Should I come to this office for lessons?'

'Yes. And, Rider?'

'Yes?'

'Crabbe and Roper have a very bad reputation. However, if students refuse to report their activities, I cannot possibly punish them.' She gave him a pointed look.

'All right. I should probably go to my first lessons.'

He had marched down several flights of stairs before he realised that he had no idea where Herbology would be. Not wanting to ask any of the many portraits lining the walls, he headed to the Entrance Hall, hoping to find a floor plan.

There was no floor plan, but before he had time to swallow his pride and ask someone he was accosted by a small ginger girl.

'Hello! You're Alex Rider, aren't you?'

He nodded automatically.

'My brother says I've got to look after you.' She didn't sound that thrilled about it. Alex wasn't that thrilled himself. The idea someone thought he needed help made him more irritated the more he thought about it.

'Is your brother Nicholas Weasley?'

She nodded.

'Well, you can tell him that I don't need any unasked – for help, certainly not from children, and am perfectly capable of looking after myself.'

He turned and made to stride off towards the stairs, hoping very much that it was the right direction for Herbology. She grabbed hold of his arm, and he shoved her violently off and continued his journey. Then she screamed.

He turned around, along with half the Entrance Hall. She was sprawled across the floor, making him feel both slightly guilty and aware that everyone around them was judging him.

'Sorry, I didn't mean...' he trailed off.

She glared at him furiously, then held her hand out imperiously. He hauled her back to her feet, where she dusted herself off and frowned so awfully at all the onlookers that they went back to their business.

'And you're going in the wrong direction for Herbology,' she announced, giving him a pointed look. 'So I suppose you'd like some _help _to find it.'

What Alex wanted was to bang his head into a wall, but she gave him no opportunity to answer, instead seizing his hand and dragging him out of the castle and into the grounds.

'I didn't want to help you,' she scowled at him as they wandered over a vast green lawn. 'I only am because Nicholas made me. He said you'd be awkward on account of being fifteen, and not having met anyone yesterday. I said I didn't care, but he was going on about Weasleys being helpful and me letting the side down until I agreed just to make him shut up.'

She led him towards several massive greenhouses, all side by side. Two girls were waiting outside one of them, and she marched in their general direction. Alex recognised one of them from the train.

'Hi Rukmini, hi Mildred!'

She waved at them, then shoved the greenhouse doors open and dragged him towards a table.

'But I think you're awful,' she forced him in a seat and sat down next to him, 'and you didn't ought to be rude about people who are trying to help when you clearly need it, or knock people down when they're being nice. So there.'

She rummaged in her bag, producing some yellowy paper and a chewed – looking quill and gazed resolutely straight ahead. Alex wanted to justify himself, and say he hadn't meant to push her, it had just been a reaction, and ask how she'd feel, if she knew people were feeling sorry for her. But he couldn't work out a way to begin the conversation, and anyway, he couldn't remember her name.

* * *

><p>After leaving McGonagall's office, Harry wandered out of the castle in the direction of Hagrid's hut. The corridors of Hogwarts were filled with students examining new timetables, meeting up with old friends and dashing in the direction of various classes. As always when he visited Hogwarts, he felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him, remembering his own school days. He could only hope that these students would find their year rather less eventful than his had always been.<p>

Hagrid was very pleased to see him. He presented Harry with a plate of lethal – looking biscuits, announcing they were Finnish. From this, Harry gathered that his relationship with Eevi Valtava was still going strong, and that Hagrid would like to be asked about it. He nobly did so, and endured nearly ten minutes of doe – eyed reminiscences (as well as a chipped tooth, courtesy of the biscuits). Eventually, Hagrid began winding down, and before he could ask about Ginny Harry interjected:

'So what do you think about this Pureblood League stuff, then?'

Hagrid looked very somber.

'It's terrible, is what it is. Every time you think everythin's going right. But you mus' know more about it than me, Harry?'

'I'd like to know what you think, though...'

Hagrid crunched on a biscuit, staring thoughtfully out of the window.

'It's bad, I reckon. Giants 'n half – giants abroad, they think it's dangerous. Britain's not the on'y country wi' purebloods and all that nonsense. But nowhere's had as much violence as we've had these past few years. I mean, they're jus' abou' ready to write us off.'

Harry gloomily helped himself to another biscuit.

'Kingsley reckons pureblood gangs from abroad are funnelling money in, to help the Pureblood League.'

Hagrid nodded sagely.

'Ar, well – Eevi thin's tha'. Finnish gangs reckon it's their bes' shot. An' I tell you another thing – International Confederation of Wizards won' have anythin' to do with it. Washed their hands of us. No – one's had any influence wi' them since Dumbledore died.'

'Everybody says that. You don't reckon you're in danger though, Hagrid?'

'No more'n I've always been. More worried 'bout Grawp, to be honest. Bit of a target, see. Not many other full giants in the world, let 'lone the UK. An' the o'ny thin' purebloods never liked 'bout Voldemort is he kept werewolves and giants onside. Well, they don' have that problem now.'

They moved on to strategies for protecting muggleborns and Grawp. Hagrid agreed to keep an eye on things, and contact Aberforth Dumbledore about listening for rumours among the Hog's Head's dodgy clientele. But Harry didn't leave Hagrid's feeling particularly hopeful.

He had an appointment with Kingsley and Robards to discuss his findings from the August 28th violence. They met in Kingsley's office, which was a large and light room which could have been nice. Unfortunately, it was filled with four – foot of papers, three fire places for Floo Calls and harassed – looking people with urgent messages. Kingsley banned these last from entering the room during their 'Top – Secret High – Security Meeting', which at least stemmed the tide, if not stopping it.

'So, what have you got?' Kingsley asked, the second he sat down.

'Not a lot.' Harry said glumly. 'Twenty – three separate households were affected. The figures were all masked. The messages were all just guff about '_dirty mudbloods_' and building a pureblood – only society. No – one saw anything else, and everyone was really upset and worried. Except Ron and Hermione, they were just angry. So all we know is they have lots of people at their disposal,to be able to launch multiple simultaneous attacks, but we have no clue who any of them are.'

'What did you tell them?' Kingsley asked.

'Oh, I just said we had no idea which people were behind the attacks, but it was probably the same as all the others and so at least one was a man with brown hair and blue eyes. I said we didn't have any particular leads, but someone like Malfoy was probably involved.'

Kingsley rolled his eyes. 'So, no attempts at comfort, and some baseless smears. I see the course on public relations really sunk in.'

'I was comforting!' Harry said indignantly. 'I'm not going to lie, though- we don't know anything. And Malfoy or one of those ex – Deatheaters has got to be involved somewhere.'

'Yes, but -' Kingsley sighed, then turned abruptly to Robards, saying aggressively 'Have you got anything of value to add? Or are you just going to sit there like always?'

Robards looked thoughtful. 'No.'

Kingsley opened his mouth, shut it abruptly, then closed his eyes and counted to twenty out loud.

'Right,' he said. 'I gather from the official reports that most families are returning home from St Mungos today, with those with low magic levels guarded by Aurors. No breakthroughs there, but I do have an advance in the Muggle case. I managed to get nothing useful from the Muggles after that attack at Mrs. Jones' flat. I might have identified one of her assailants, though.'

He flung the _Daily Prophet _down on the table in front of them. The headline blared _Nedostovernov Out For the Count With Mystery Injury_.

'I checked. He's currently in a Bulgarian hospital, having surgery in a very delicate area.'

* * *

><p>Mrs. Weasley insisted on accompanying Ron and Hermione back to their flat after they'd been released from hospital. Actually, she wanted them to come and stay at the Burrow (possibly forever), but they managed to wear her down. In the end, it was lucky she came.<p>

The flat was the only one occupied in condemned block in Muggle London. It had been condemned for many years, while various witches and wizards made their homes there. Attacks during the Second Wizarding War had displaced its previous residents, and most of the flats were still awaiting refurbishment. Muggle – Repelling Charms put off squatters. The place was a tip – they'd been having a quiet evening in when their clock hands on their clock (a present from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley) had pointed to mortal peril, a sure sign the charmed defences around the property had been breached. Piles of paper relating to Hermione's work with house elves and goblins were scattered around the kitchen-cum-sitting room, while Ron's attempts at cookery had encrusted the kitchen in various different – coloured sauces. The oven contained a large lump of charcoal which had once been mutton.

'Honestly, I don't know how the two of you survive.' Mrs. Weasley sighed, bustling in to take care of the kitchen. 'Shall we have shepherd's pie this evening?'

'Sounds great Mum!' Ron said happily, giving Hermione a thumbs up.

Hermione rolled her eyes fondly, unfolding a plan of the block of flats. They needed to re – create their charmed defences, which could be quite complicated – they'd got a company to do it last time, but were going to do their own now. Hermione felt sure substandard spellwork had helped ensure enemies could easily get through their barriers.

She and Ron were soon deep in an argument as to whether it had been a sensible idea to get Cullwick's Cut – price Charms to provide their home security. The plan lay forgotten beside them.

It was then that the room around them caught fire. The flames were huge and unnatural, and Hermione recognised the ferocious shapes of Fiendfyre, roaring towards them.

'Mum!' Ron yelled, sounding terrified, and Mrs. Weasley ran to join them in the centre of the room, barely avoiding the flames.

'We're trapped!' Hermione shouted, turning desperately to try and spot an escape route. Ron was thinking more clearly, however.

'Accio broom!' he shouted, and as his Firebolt soared towards them, they all crammed themselves awkwardly onto it. He soared towards the ceiling as the flames closed in.

The echo of their seventh – year escapades somehow made her think more clearly, and she shouted 'Bombarda!', caving the ceiling in. They flew desparately upwards, as the flames pursued them. Hermione knew they had to get into the open air to have any chance – Fiendfyre would feed on anything flammable. There was a smell of acrid smoke all around them, and when she made the mistake of looking down fiery serpents snarled at her. At last they soared into the night sky, Fiendfyre licking furiously at the ruined building below them. Hermione looked down for the caster, and thought she could see a shadowy figure on the street.

Then Mrs. Weasley shouted 'Look out! _Stupefy_!'

Hermione looked around. They were surrounded by shadowy shapes on broomsticks. As one of them plummeted to the ground, the others – she counted five – raised their wands.

'_Crucio_!'


End file.
